Hoping for the Rain
by Elen-Silver Star
Summary: Here's a spin-ff story between Arahaelon, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, and Indilene, it will overlap eventually (and quickly) with Almarëa. Also the rest of the siblings, Tadion, Lossenel and Legolas will appear in this story.
1. Water Lilies

The golden morning light filtered from the open balcony and into the vast room, dancing in shimmering patterns over the polished marble floor. Outside the trees waltzed to the melody of the gentle autumn breeze, their flaming leaves painting the landscape in bright red and gold, some of them eve washing feebly inside the bedchamber like a delicate carpet. At least it was not raining today. I had been raining for the past four days without a break, the sky constantly casting the realm with its somber gray mantle.

Letting out a silent sigh, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood let his fingers unwrap from the delicate railing, gracefully turning around and heading back inside the welcoming interiors of his bedchamber. His emerald eyes scanned over the piece that he already knew by memory, tracing over every single detail absentmindedly. Everything was exactly as it had been the day before, and the one before that, and the one before that. He loved this room, his room. The only piece in the grand Palace that belonged solely to him. The rich silk deep blue curtains swayed languidly at the wall long windows, the color the exact same shade as the feather cover on the overly large bed in the center of the room.

A silver tray with his breakfast laid already on a small round table to the corner of the room. It was gorgeously adorned with intricate patterns of leaves woven in the same silver around the handles, where one of the delicate leaves was awkwardly bent sideways, marking the place where someone had no doubt dropped it some years ago. It was the same tray that delivered to his bedchambers everytime he missed a meal. Sidhel always used the same tray. It was filled with all sorts of pastries, cheeses, bread and freshly squeezed orange juice, but the sight of if did not seem too appealing at the moment. No. It only reminded him that he had been forced to rise at an absurdly early hour in the morning, before the Sun had even had time to show its presence, to attend a Council meeting where he did nothing more than to sit by his father's right side and simply listen to everything that was being said. Not that it bothered him to attend the King's meetings or to simply stand by his side and listen. After all he was indeed Crown Prince and as thus it was his duty to be occasionally present. But it seemed that for the past couple of weeks his father had been constantly on top of him, demanding his presence in every single meeting, not matter how insignificant the subjects they were discussing. He knew that the Elvenking was only attempting to teach him, but Valar it was exhausting, especially when said meetings occurred in the middle of night. How did his father do this every day?

Deciding against having breakfast, - not that he was hungry anyway- the Crown Prince of Mirkwood headed instead to the large wooden wardrobe to the farthest side of the room, absentmindedly discarding the exquisite elegant blue outer robes he had been wearing. At least he had the rest of the day to himself, he might was well spend it outside. Perhaps he would even find Lossenel or Tadion and figure out what had they been up to today.

His slender fingers gently pulled the heavenly crafted pair of doors open, the wood feeling pleasantly warm against his hands as he let his deep green eyes travel over the many robes and clocks hanging inside, searching for a very particular item. But no matter how many times his eyes roamed from garment to garment, that precise dark green cloak he was specifically looking for was not there. His eyes widened slightly in both surprise and confusion for a second. It had to be there. He had placed it there with the rest of his cloaks, he was sure of it. Everything in his bedchambers was always where it was supposed to be. And yet that cloak, his favorite cloak, was not there. But that could not be….. He took a deep calming breath as a new realization suddenly downed on him, reluctantly taking instead a worn light blue cloak as he pushed the wardrobe's doors closed once more. Legolas! Why, oh _Why_ in the name of the Valar did his youngest brother _always_ had to come pick out stuff from his chambers and never return them. But no, this time he not only had to take his favorite cloak without asking, but this time he had to take it _to Imladris_! He only hoped this cloak would return home safely this time…the last few of _his_ cloaks that Legolas had taken to Imladris had somehow been lost. Of course his father would always replace the lost cloaks with new ones, but he did not specially like new ones…he liked his old ones, the ones he already knew and wore.

Admitting that there was nothing else he could do for his cloak at the moment, Arahaelon swiftly crossed the ample bedchamber, acknowledging the two guards flanking the doors with a curt nod of this head. Candanor to the left and Amrodhil to the right of the pair of majestic doors. They had switched sides today. Usually Amrodhil was to the right. The long grand corridors of the Palace were mostly empty as he patiently walked down their seemingly infinite lengths, knowing every archway, every column, every door already by heart. The tall slender columns that stretched majestically to the intricate ceiling only to meet delicately at the tip of pointed arches, the cold stone seeming warm, casting long elegant shadows underneath the rays of sunlight.

"Sidhel." He called in his usually gentle and patient voice as the slim figure of the maid suddenly rounded a corner, the maid bowing her head immediately with a soft "My Lord" before looking back up at him, no doubt waiting for new orders on his part. He always found it strange how formal and respectful the maid was with him and the rest of his siblings, after all she had been the maid in charge of them during their childhood, and yet always, even when he was nothing but an elfling, Sidhel had addressed him either by 'My Lord', 'My Prince' or 'Your Highness', never calling him by his given name. No one ever did, only his father and siblings, as the proper protocol demanded formalities to be always used when referring to the Royal Family.

"Have you seen Tadion?" Sidhel's gentle eyes looked slightly confused by the question, shaking her head only after a few seconds, long blond hair swaying lightly at her back.

"No, Your Highness, I have not seen him for a few hours, but last time I heard he was outside in the training fields." Of course he was, why had he not thought about it before, it seemed the obvious place to find Tadion. Perhaps he would even go down there himself and spar with him form a while.

"Thank you, Sidhel." He nodded with a soft smile before reassuming his walk down the long arched corridor, already anticipating the soothing calmness of the trees outside.

He barely even noticed the few elves he crossed on his way, only returning the respectful nods on the heads and bows he received on his way, and finally the ample set of vast terraces he had been looking for came into view, where the Palace opened up to the endless gardens outside. It was pleasantly cool outside in the gardens, the fallen red leaves carpeting over the ever green grass and crunching underneath his feet as he made his way through garden after garden, the trees become denser and denser as he walked. His emerald eyes looked up at the canopy above his head, watching as the thousand of branches of all sorts of different sizes tangled together in an enchanting dancing web, the light filtering sparsely through the few openings left and reflecting the bright red and orange tones into the ground below. It was the most beautiful part of the forest: the thick canopy above.

Suddenly his legs bumped into something, startling him form his thoughts and making him immediately look down at the sound of a surprised cry, and Valar if he could have blushed, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood would have turned red with embarrassment as his eyes fell on the slender figure of a Lady who had been sitting peacefully on the fresh grass…until he ran over her all because he had been looking up at the leaves.

"Forgive me, my Lady. I did not see you." He apologized, his voice ever the perfectly serene sound that betrayed none of his embarrassment, his stomach tying in a knot as his eyes fell on the suddenly harsh long line of charcoal that the Lady's hand had accidentally marked over the page where she seemed to have been drawing the nearby lilies that floated delicately over the pond.

"It is hard too see what's on the ground if one's eyes are on the sky, Your Highness." Oh Valar, and he had thought he had been embarrassed before. Tadion would mock him for the rest of eternity if he ever found out about this. And yet the Lady's voice was gentle, as soft and tranquil as the breeze, not seeming to have been bothered at all by the unexpected collision, her head turning to look up at him from where she was still sitting on the grass.

Arahaelon's eyes never showed his surprise as he took in the delicate features of the Lady's face. He knew this Lady. Familiar long silken hair fell in delicate braids down her back, the calming color of ashes, framing a very delicate angular face adorned with large soothing hazel eyes, spiked with green near the pupils. It was Lady Indilene. He had not seen her since she was nothing but an elfling, always running around with Legolas while her nursemaid trailed behind her, constantly attempting to fix her dress or ribbons. He knew both of her parents- her father a well known former member of the Council- had died when she was nothing but an infant, when her uncle – a renowned Lord he did not quite remember the name of- had taken her as his own. She and Legolas had been very close, but she had moved to Lorien some years later to spend time with her mother's side of the family. He had not known they had returned. She looked different not…prettier.

"It seems I ruined your drawing." He added, his eyes once again scanning the parchment where the long line of charcoal had fallen. But thinking it twice, that did not even resemble a drawing. It was horrible, awful, the water lilies on her page barely resembled flowers at all.

To his surprise she raised a delicate eyebrow at him, a soft smile drawing on her face that he could not tell if it was trying to be polite or to mock him. "Do not flatter yourself, my Lord. It was already ruined. It is horrible." Her voice was once again as tranquil as before, even as she spoke the complete truth, as soft as morning dew making him debate for a second before he too admitted the truth to her.

"You are right, My Lady. It is...terrible." And oh, Valar it was. It was an insult to anything remotely resembling a rater lily. The lines were all wrong. Not a single seemed to be drawn correctly. Could Indilene not _see_ how water lilies _looked like?_ And yet it seemed that his words only made a soft chuckle escape her lips, the sound as gentle as her own voice, large eyes looking back up at him in an almost daring manner, slightly narrowed at his words.

"Then why do you not try to draw them better yourself then?...Your Highness" She added at the end, as if she had almost forgotten who she had been talking to, but he did not mind. Oh he could draw them better. He definitely could. But he was not sure if he wanted to make her feel worse about her drawing which was already an embarrassment by itself.

Instead of saying anything, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood slowly sat down on the grass next to her, always graceful and elegant, always the Prince he had taught to be, carefully observing the Lady, but she did not give him a chance to speak before quickly changing her mind, her lips curving up in a defeated smile as her eyes pouted at the horrible drawing sitting on her, as if almost pitying it herself.

"You know, do not try to draw them yourself, my Lord, because I now have the feeling that you _will_ draw them better than me and I already feel bad about my lack of skill." She chuckled, closing the sketchbook on her lap with a swift move of her pale hand. She did lack skill, that was undeniable.

"Have you seen Prince Legolas, my Lord?" She changed the subject, her face as serene and soft as before as if nothing could ever agitate her. "I have been looking for him but have unable to find him."

"Well if you do find him tell him that he has something of mine that I would really like back." He added before he realized he had even spoken. Why was he casually giving her this information? He found that Indilene was now looking curiously at him, that delicate eyebrow once again raised questioningly above her peaceful eyes. And yet the way she was looking at him, casually, softly, made him slightly uncomfortable, as if she was looking at _him, Arahaelon,_ and not at the Crown Prince he portrayed. Even if there was no scrutinizing glance in her eyes, even if she did not seemed to be observing him or studying him, simply casually looking with her innocent soft eyes, it still made him feel that she was looking at _him._ And immediately he became the Crown Prince again, regal and calmed, cautious of every single once of his movements, every single one of his words. "Legolas is in Imladris. He will be returning in the winter."

His peacefully polite words only gained a nod from Lady Indilene's head, her ash colored hair gently brushing her shoulders in the process, the strands looking as soft, as delicate as the lilies floating beautifully on the nearby pond. But her eyes remained looking at him with that soft entleness, as calming as the undisturbed surface of the pond, as open as a child's eyes, as if she had no trouble in letting anyone see inside them. There was no guard, no barrier, merely open, inviting even, making him all the more uncomfortable as he once again felt that she was looking at _him,_ as if merely with her eyes she was violating a very private territory. He did not want her to look at _him_. He did not want her to look at _Arahaelon_. She did not know him. He did not know her.

"Oh." Was all the Lady said, seeming somehow disappointed that his younger brother was not in the Palace as she had no doubt expected. "I have not seen him in such a long time. He was the only elfling for me to play with." Those penetrating eyes turned once again to look at him, a gorgeous smile adorning her angular face, lighting her eyes.

"I remember that." He added, not really knowing why he was saying it, as if the sole inviting look of her eyes was enough for him to open up to her, even if he still tried to remained guarded around her, letting her look always at the Crown Prince, still uncomfortable and yet amazed with the openness of her own large hazel eyes.

A light laugh left her lips. "We used to slide on cloaks all the way down to this same pond." She spoke freely once more, yet not seeming melancholic, simply conversing lightly, he demeanor always soft, reminding him once more of the innocent little elfling that used to trail behind Legolas in each and every one of his crazy ideas, never once complaining and always seeming happy and excited about whatever it was that Legolas chose to play.

"Yes, I remember that as well. Those cloaks were mine." He narrowed his eyes at her in a most un-princely manner, reminded once again of the many ruined cloaks he had found lying messily over the gardens. Why could Legolas _never_ take Tadion's cloaks to mess with? _Why_ did it always had to be _his?_ And yet he knew the reason very well. Tadion would not let Legolas mess with his stuff without a little yell in return. He had seen so many a fight like that before. And yet as Indilene's eyes turned to look at him again he was once again faced with the uncomfortable feeling that she was seeing right into _him_ , making immediately feel the need to lift back his barriers. But she was stunning, those eyes were mesmerizing, as liquid as the dancing waters of the pond as inviting as the morning, so calming, so steady, so…real. No barriers, no pretenses, just _her_. And he did not why but he once again did not want her looking directly at _him._ No one looked at _him_ , only his immediate family was allowed inside his walls, why did he feel as if her eyes could penetrate them so easily? He did not like that. What lay behind his walls, behind his carefully constructed barriers was personal, was his, was _him._ He did not know her. He needed to leave, needed to escape those welcoming eyes before he allowed her to look right past all of his defenses, all his caution.

"Forgive me for running over you, my Lady." He added as he gracefully pushed himself to his feet once more, standing as tall and regal as ever, watching as a look of sudden confusion filled Indilene's honey colored eyes before disappearing only to be replaced with that soothing welcoming gaze. "I must be on my way."

She seemed slightly taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor, and yet did not seem surprised at all by it, as if she had been anticipating that exact reaction from him, as if she had somehow known the he would not let her in. "Of course, my Lord." Was the only thing she said, that warm and inviting smile still present on her lips. He needed to get away from her.

He turned around as well, continuing his march down the gardens, headed towards the training fields. He would find Tadion, just as it had been his intention when entering the gardens. He would find Tadion and spar with his younger brother fro a while before someone no doubt came looking for him to attend yet another meeting. And yet there was still that uncomfortable feeling lingering on him from the way in which Indilene's gentle eyes had innocently looked past all o his barriers and landed on _him_. He would not let that happen again. He did not ever want that to happen again….And yet he did.

Hi! So here's the first chapter of a spin-off story companion to Alamarëa. The idea has been on my head for a while but finally managed to write it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please let me know what you think!

Also I have been working on the next chapter of Almarëa so don't despair! It will hopefully come up soon! I'm still struggling with work for my masters so haven't had much time at all, but again I have not abandoned that story and I never will! Sorry for the awfully long waits, but also I don't want to leave you with a chapter that is bad and rushed just because I wrote it in a hurry.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this little fragment into Arahaelon's life.

Love,

Elena


	2. Distance

The intricate crystal piece felt cold against his fingers, landing with a deaf echo as he patiently moved it across the board. Tadion was lost. Only glancing at the board could confirm that. All the heavenly crafted crystal pieces were in his favor, there was no way in Arda that Tadion could win this game now. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood had to suppress a laugh as his younger brother's narrowed blue eyes scanned the board back and forth for what seemed like the hundredth's time, as if trying to find a way out of the mess he himself had made. His moves were always so predictable.

"Do not throw me that look, Ar" Tadion's voice sounded slightly annoyed, even though his sky blue eyes did not turn up to look at him, still carefully studying every piece on the board sitting in between the two of them.

"What look?" He let out a single low laugh, watching as Tadion's eyes only seemed to narrow more in frustration. Why would simply not move any piece instead of keep analyzing the board? Literally _any_ piece. It would not make a difference now. He had already lost.

"The 'I am Ar and can perfectly predict all of your moves so you already lost the game because I always win' look" Oh yes, Tadion was clearly annoyed now, but he was not angry, his face contorting in a very exaggerated, and bad, impersonation of him, not able to hide his mocking smirk as he spoke. And what was he talking about? He was not throwing him a 'look'.

"Yes you are, now stop it, Ar" He raised both of his eyebrows at Tadion's words, playfully glaring at him before patiently crossing his arms and leaning back comfortably against the back of the cushioned chair. He let his eyes dance over the room for a second, carefully tracing each and every item in the overly large Family Sitting Room he already knew by memory. The welcoming fire crackled softly on the grand fireplace, its flames twirling and dancing languidly across de room. The wall long arched windows had been left closed against the cool night air, the rich silk curtains perfectly tied open to the sides.

And _still_ Tadion did not seem to be able to make a decision of which piece to move.

"You already lost, Tadion." He spoke matter-of-factly, his voice always the same serene steady sound, even though his lips curved up in a teasing smile, watching as it was now him the one to receive a poisonous glare form those ever-readable blue eyes.

" 'You already lost, Tadion' " His younger brother rolled his eyes in a very un-princely manner, face once contorting in a mocking impersonation, resembling much the mockery an elfling would perform of a very disliked tutor. But it was not unusual for Tadion to mock him playfully whenever they were in private settings, _especially_ when he was losing at something. "I have not lost _yet_. The game is not over."

"Then by Elbereht make _any_ move and let us end it faster." Now he was the one sounding slightly annoyed, even though his face remained as patient as ever, watching as his younger brother casually, not even paying much attention now.

"Fine." A new look crossed Tadion, smile curving up in a mischievous grin Arahaelon knew all too well to never trust, slender fingers suddenly grabbing at his crystal knight and sliding it nearly six spaces across de board, knocking out Arahaelon's Queen.

"Cheater!" The Crown Prince exclaimed, unable now to contained his laughter at the absurdity of the move, bewildered eyes looking at his now smirking younger brother. "The knight does not move in a straight line!"

"Well, I _want_ it to move in a straight line." Tadion argued in return, his words not making any sense at all, only making The Crown Prince laugh more, his mouth slightly agap.

"Very well." If Tadion thought he could outwit him with an improvised move of the game, he could play along as well. Before he could get Tadion any chance to register his words, his fingers were already curling around his own bishop, moving the piece all across de board, over other pieces that were on the way and knocking out Tadion's King.

"There, I won."

"You cannot do that!" Now it was Tadion's turn to protest, his eyes still gleaming with mischief as he shook his head forcefully, stressing his words.

"I did the same thing you did." He defended himself, still patient and calmed, a thing that he could see was only making Tadion protest even more.

"No, it was not! There is a limit to cheating, I just moved it in a different way, but you just broke all the rules of the game! You jumped over everything!" Tadion's words got lost in between his disbelieved giggles, as not even him could believe what was coming out of his mouth.

"There is no such thing as a _limit to cheating!_ It's still _cheating!_ And you cheated _first_!" Oh, they were bickering like elflings now. His father would be laughing at them both. And yet he always loved these moments with Tadion, where his younger brother always wanted to get his way.

"But I cheated _decently,_ you just went all over the place"

" _How,_ pray tell does anyone cheat _decently?!"_

"Why are my two, _of age,_ sons, the first and second _in line to the crown_ , fully educated Princes, arguing like elflings?" His father's voice echoed suddenly around spacious room, just as his ears caught the deaf sound of the large wooden doors clicking closed, long rich robes trailing behind the lightest of footsteps. And yet, he did not need to turn around to hear the faint smile ghosting behind his father's words, the words far from being chastising.

"Because Ar cheated, Ada." Tadion spoke quickly, his infinite blue eyes still carrying that mischievous sparkle as they turned up to look at the King, his voice dripping with an innocence that only the foolest of fools would believe to be truthful. And their father was no fool. Not that Tadion had even half expected his words to be believed in any case.

"Or was it because you, my son, were losing, _again_?" One thick eyebrow rose high on the King's brow as he spoke, his face the same perfectly composed expression. But Arahaelon knew his father way too well to detect the joyful, equally playful gleam concealed in his ice blue eyes, the mighty King dissolving right before their eyes as the father appeared.

"Arahaelon, come here." His father's soft, yet authoritative voice called behind him as he made his way to the elegant oak desk on the far end of the room, rich deep blue robes trailing silently behind him. And the Crown Prince did not need to be told twice, immediately following his father to the desk. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Tadion proceeding to carefully put away all of the crystal chess pieces back where they belonged, leaving the board clean and ready for whoever wished to play next.

"May I leave, Ada?" He heard Tadion asking politely from the small table by the fire, and even though he knew that neither him nor Tadion really needed permission to leave the piece, it was more out of customary respect, as their father had barely just arrived.

"Of course, Tadion." Came the King's gentle reply, offering his son a peaceful smile before indicating with an elegant movement of the hand for the Crown Prince to take the seat directly across from him. Without questioning it, Arahaelon sat down, having done this same move so many countless times before, patiently waiting for his father to speak.

This time, however, instead of speaking, his father merely gracefully slid a piece of parchment in his direction, not even turning to look at his son grabbing it before already taking his exquisite quill in his hand, starting to scribble in his slanted calligraphy on the piles of papers left on the desk.

"What is this?" Even as his face remained as calm and impassive, the Crown Prince was sure he was not able to conceal his sudden confusion from showing in his voice as he carefully hold the piece of parchment up in his fingers. And yet, his father did not look up from his work, his hand still dancing graciously with the quill.

"I do not know." Was the only reply he got, as if his father was not really interested in the question. "Read it and then tell me."

What? More confused that before, but never one to argue without real cause, Arahaelon let his emerald eyes carefully travel down the neat calligraphy of the parchment, quickly skimming through it from start to finish.

"It is a request for a trading agreement." He commented finally, forest green eyes turning to look at his father once more, searching for the ice blue eyes that never met his, the King still concentrated on whatever it was he was writing.

"So it seems." Was the only reply he got, and suddenly he knew his father had already been aware of the contents of said parchment.

"What are you going to do with this?" He questioned, the thing yellowish page still held carefully between his fingers, once again searching for his father to look up, but the older elf remained immersed in his task of writing, as it not too interested in the topic.

"I do not know." His father's voice was as calmed as before, not really cooperating with any answer. "What am I going to with it?"

"Are you not going to sign it?" He asked, understanding where this conversation was headed but not really wanting it to be the case.

"Should I sign it?" For the first time his father's eyes turned up to look at him, always gentle, yet for once not giving a single clue as to what he was expecting as an answer. He was expecting _him_ to give the answer.

"Well….yes." He said, not really meaning it, but for once just wanting to hear his father's thoughts on the matter instead of simply being questioned. And yet, to his utter surprise and unlike anything the King had done before when discussing real dealings with Arahaelon, his father absentmindedly took the parchment in his own hands, silently moving the quill to the bottom of the page, where it yet awaited to be signed.

"Wait." Arahaelon spoke quickly, forest green eyes now more confused, questioning his father. "Were you really going to sing it only because I said to?"

"Yes." His father's voice was as gentle as before, speaking as it was the most obvious answer in Arda. "Should I not sign it then?"

So that was it. He did not needed to be told to understand exactly what it was that his father was expecting of him this time. The decision was his.

"Have you read it yourself?" Was the only thing he asked, hoping that his father would at least say yes.

"No. I have not read the terms of the agreement" Valar, why? Was he expected then to do this decision entirely by himself? "You read them, think about it and tell me whether or not I should sign. Whatever you say, I will do."

"Will you at least read it after I make a decision and verify if you agree or not?" His father always did that. The few times that he had asked Arahaelon to make a decision like this one, he had at least guided him through it. However, he already felt this case would be different.

"No." Once again his father's voice was as calmed as before, as if once again his answer was the most obvious one. "You decide and tell me what to do."

"And if I do not wish to?" His voice was not daring, not once impolite or disrespectful, and yet he knew his father could easily read behind his perfectly composed expression, read the sudden anger he felt at the request. He was not yet King. He did not want the burden of these decisions thrown upon him yet. But it was not up to him, was it? Just like it had not been up to his father to become King.

And yet his father's gaze remained equally as gentle, not once reacting to his son's sudden change in mood, as if not even him ever wished this burden upon his own son. Arahaelon knew his father was merely teaching him, but he did not want to be taught this way!

"Do not second guess yourself. Simply read it, think, and make a decision. This is mall to what you have already done. You have already taken full control over the realm, twice before, my son." His father's words were encouraging, voice still soft, and yet they did nothing to calm his rising anger, anger that although it never showed on his face was sure his father could very easily pick on.

He had indeed ruled the realm twice before, and it was an experience he did not wish to repeat, for in both cases he had not had a choice, in both occasion his father had been unable to rule. It had been years since then, and he still remembered them all too vividly, all the succession paperwork the advisors questioning about everything, the panic in the air at the possibility that his father would not survive the loss of his wife. The possibility of his father dying had been so likely, so horrible, so painful that the Council had even had everything prepared in case he needed to take over the Crown, _everything._ It had been like living through a torturous nightmare. And even through everything, he had not once been allowed to loose his temper, his self control, always expected to act gracious, to never show hesitation before making any decision, even as he had had to just in case sign the papers of _his own succession to the throne._

And the first time he had taken over….no that time he did not even wish to remember. It had been after _that_ night….

"That I have done it in the past does not mean I wish to do it ever again." His words were colder than usual, this time not giving his father a chance to reply before he snatched the parchment from the elegant oaken desk, his feet already hurrying towards the door. He would apologize later.

The King did not call out after him as he made his way to the door, barely acknowledging the guards with a nod of his head as he exited the piece. And yet he knew no one would be able to tell he was angry, no one would be able to read the boiling ire that he felt rushing through his veins, his face always serene, eyes ever impenetrable. A Prince.

He let his feet elegantly guide him through the maze of majestic hallways in long strides, the formal olive green robes he had needed to wear that day for the morning Council Meeting silently brushing the polished marble floor behind him. And suddenly the elegant silver circlet resting over his head felt heavier than it ever had before. The decision was a trivial one, either ryes or no, and he knew he would be able to make it easily once he fully read the terms of agreement, but it was not that what bothered him at the moment. It was everything.

But what bothered him the most, more than that, more than any decision the King could have possibly ask him make, was the gentle song of trees outside. He could hear it clearer and clearer as he approached the large terraces of the Royal Wing, the sound like a sweet lulling melody, a chorus of voices more beautiful than any other in Arda, it was the sound of starlight. It was a sound he knew all too well, and yet a sound that for years now had stopped being the one he longed to hear, the one he longed to reach. It could no longer touch it, it would no longer whisper secrets to him, unable to trespass the now overly evident distance.

He absently dropped himself in once of the comfortable chaises by the edge of the terraces, closing his eyes as he focused on listening to the enchanting song outside. And only years before he could have done much more than merely hear it. He could have responded….but there was no point in thinking about the past now. He would not be able to respond ever again, and he had come to terms with that. That part of him was lost, and the mark of tiny fingerprints left burned over his left arm was the constant reminder of it. It had been nobody's fault, but by the Valar he wished it had never happened.

The delicate sound of footsteps woke him from his thoughts, his head immediately turning in the direction of the sound, eyes easily landing on the approaching figure. Indilene seemed to stop her march the minute that she saw him, as if suddenly realizing that her place of destination was already occupied. For a second he was about to ask what she was doing in the Private Terraces, but he quickly remember that some high-ranking families –hers included- had permission to these terraces, although never the interior chambers. She nodded her head shortly, respectfully, her long ashen hair brushing the ample sleeves of her silvery blue dress in the process. And then, silently, as if she could read his mood, she started to turn away, as if deciding to head to a different place.

"Have you come to give a second attempt at your horrible drawing?" He found himself speaking, not really knowing why was he doing it, but suddenly feeling that her company would be better than being completely alone here. She was not any of his siblings who would easily be able to read his anger, and she was not a servant who would merely comply to everything he said. And yet, even though they sounded distant, his words were not harsh, and he hoped they had not sounded offending. It was so unlike him to blurt out at a stranger like this, no matter how composed and serene his voice sounded. It had been nearly three weeks since he had last seen her, when he ran over her in the gardens, and he did not know why that was the only thing he could think of saying.

"No." Her voice was casual, and for a second he was not able to read whether or not she had been offended by his words, seeming not to have cared at all. Her previously open and welcoming hazel eyes suddenly impossible to read, still so gentle and warm, but a mystery. "I gave up on that."

She stood there, awkwardly by the entrance of the terrace, as if not really wanting to turn away but somehow being able to tell that he himself did not know whether or not he wanted company. She was beautiful, but in her own delicately plain way, her features not stunning but soft. He silently turned to face at the forest again, deciding not to pay her much attention.

"Should the Crown Prince not be at the dinner table with the rest of the Royals at the moment?" Her easy voice broke the silence, floating casually in the still air as he heard her footsteps silently walking into the terrace, not to where he sat but to lean against the delicate railing some distance away, close yet far enough. And yet her words, even though they carried no malice in the slightest, did nothing to improve his mood.

"I decide where I should be." He replied, his eyes once again impenetrable, not turning to look at her as his voice remained the calmed tone of a Prince, kind yet guarded. And for a long second silence settled once more in the night-lit terrace. Once again she did not seem bothered by his words, and he let his eyes spare one more glance in her direction. Her back was to him, her attention seeming to be drawn to the forest outside as she leaned casually over the intricate silver railing, the long strands of her ash colored hair looking silver under the sparse light.

Long moments passed in silence until he saw her move again, slowly turning around to face him, yet not moving closer, this time leaning back against the railing instead of forward. And for a second he found her green-stroked eyes looking at him intently, patient, welcoming like infinite seas that were at the same time so unreachable, and he let her look, knowing that his own eyes remained as impenetrable as before, she would not find whatever she looked in them.

"Are you always so distant, my Lord?" Her words surprised him, but he did not show it, her eyes not even seeming to react to what she said, but he did not look away from her studying gaze, daring her to be the one to look away first. And yet once again there was no malice in her words, no accusation whatsoever, simply curiosity, as if it was a question that she was really trying to find an answer for.

"You do not know me." He said shortly, still daring her to look away, leaving no space for argument, yet never once being rude or impolite, merely regal, tall.

"Does anyone?" The question hung hollowly in the air for a while, definitely not the words he had expecting to hear, and yet the more it registered in his head, the more that he himself wanted to find an answer for it. Did anyone? Apart from his siblings and his father, perhaps Lossenel the most, but other than that…..

"No." And he smiled faintly as he spoke, not really able to point out what he was feeling exactly, but knowing that it was the truth. And why was he telling her this? She seemed friendly enough….

She did not say anything else, as if once again being easily able to pick on his mood, turning around to once more face the forest outside, still remaining in the terrace, yet far enough from him not be obviously called company. And he did not speak in return, just sitting there in silence, once again inside his own thoughts as the hours danced slowly before his eyes, the trees swaying to the tune of their own song….

So here is chapter 2! A little sooner than I had anticipated. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Thank you so much to my reviewers form last chapter: Jibril, Jasperslittlesister and Teddy 2014 ! Your words mean a lot to me and I can't thank you enough!

Also this story is dedicated to Martine9295 simply because you are amazing!

Love,

Elena


	3. Names

Bright music floated over the grand Halls, the enchanting sound twirling around the tall elegant columns, bouncing on the intricate ceiling which bloomed with waterfalls of the most vibrant red, orange, yellow, and gold leaves. The melodic chatter of a thousand conversing elves seemed to sing along to the joyful waltz, voices tangled into an unintelligible tune. Her eyes gazed dreamily over the splendid celebration, wanting to store every detail into her mind, the sight one she had almost thought forgotten. It had been too long since she had last been at Mirkwood for the Autumn Feast, and somehow this year's celebration seemed grander than ever before.

Everything, from the dry twigs and twisting branches springing on the columns, to the long silk tablecloths, plates, cups and napkins was sparkling in gold, the tones shimmering like the light of a thousand stars, only brightening the sharp reds and oranges of the millions of leaves that had been gathered around the room, either in overflowing bouquets or simply blanketing over the floor. All around her elves moved through the infinite expanse of the King's Halls, dressed in their finest robes, all in different tones of reds, oranges and gold, rubies and pearls begin the most worn jewels of the night, twinkling from nearly every bracelet, every necklace and dripping almost from every female head. The formal structure of the celebration had long ago broken, elves no longer sticking to their previous seating and instead roaming from table to table, some dancing, some pacing, but all of them drinking the most exquisite red wine.

Her honey colored eyes dropped to look at the golden glass sitting on the table in front of her, almost empty by now, her hands absently straightening the folds of her bright orange dress, the fine silk feeling extremely soft under her pale fingers. She could not remember the last time she had worn such a vibrant shade, almost always preferring the more traditional and soft tones of blues, greens and violets commonly used in Mirkwood, but then again it had been a long time since she had attended the Autumn celebration. Her long ashen hair had been perfectly combed and braided, pulled back in a single elegant braid twisted into a large bun, her maid having incrusted hundreds of tiny gold pins in the shape of flowers all over her head.

She sat alone at a table now, her aunt and uncle having gone to join the dancing elves only some minutes ago, but she could not decide whether to stand up and walk around the room for a while or to simply sit there and overlook he spectacle unfolding right in front of her eyes. Curious, she spared a glance in the direction of the High Table that was customarily raised on a small podium, where the Royal Family and a very selective group of elves sat. The King looked as royal and powerful as eve, sitting regally on the throne-like chair placed at the head of the table, his robes in a rich fabric of the most magnificent of golds. And yet, the crown on his head was not his crown of silver leaves but one of twigs shaped in gold, the delicate branches intertwining in the most intricate of patterns over his silvery head. She was quick to find Prince Tadion sitting there too, having moved to the now empty seat to the right of the King, a wide smile on his ever carefree and gentle face as he narrated something quickly. The Princess was there as well, she noticed, watching the stunning delicate figure rising to her feet and heading to join the dancing crowd, her wine colored dress twirling around her like the lightest of clouds.

But her eyes were pulled to another figure at the Royal Table. The figure that no matter how much anyone looked, anyone studied, would ever remain enigmatic, unreadable. He sat to the King's left in perfect silence, not joining in his brother's tale, but merely overlooking at the feast. His long rich robes were sewn in the brightest of scarlets, and even form the distance she could see the many tiny rubies embroidered in golden thread in the pattern of leaves. A golden circlet rested on his head, slightly larger than the one his brother wore, the color of the precious metal blending perfectly with his long blond strands of hair. But it was not his regal appearance what always caught her attention. The Crown Prince had always been the picture of serenity, as if his sole presence would make any elf unquestionably follow his command, but once again it was the impenetrable power in his eyes what intrigued her the most. His forest green irises remained always so unreachable, as hard and cold as the most precious of emeralds yet inexplicably seeming to swirl with so many untouched thoughts, untouched emotions underneath that unbreakable barrier. They seemed to see beyond what her own eyes could, seemed to know so many things that were forever to remain silent, seemed to think faster than she could catch up, and most of all seemed to pierce through others as if they could see right through their very soul. He seemed always so tall, so noble, and at the same time so distant. And still, she believed there was more.

She found it hard to believe that him and Legolas could even be related at all. Legolas had always seemed so open, so welcoming, smiling and talking easily. He had been her best friend while growing up, constantly getting her in trouble with her uncle, and she was sure that had he not been the Prince, her punishments would have been of grater magnitude. And yet, there was still that puzzling misalignment in between the Crown Prince she knew and the one Legolas had spoken about on and on and on when they were elflings. It was strange, the feeling one she could not quite place. She had grown up listening to Legolas telling her tales of an elf that seemed almost the opposite from the Crown Prince she had always seen.

She shook her head slightly, her eyes once again turning to gaze at her half-empty cup. The tune had change, the melody now prancing with the tender music of long elegant flutes. She gazed absently at the dancing elves, twirling and floating all over the vast room, but could no longer spot her uncle and aunt in the crowd.

"Good evening, my Lady." The soft voice startled her, her green stroked eyes immediately flying up to find the source, landing on the tall figure of a dark haired ellon now standing next to her. She had not even heard him approach.

"May I join you?" The ellon's hand motioned gracefully to the empty seat next to her – all chairs in her table were empty really- his dark blue eyes, almost violet, seeming to be looking at her from head to toe. She nodded her head in reply, forcing her lips to curve up in a polite smile, even if she did not really feel like having the ellon's company. And still she allowed herself to study him absently. He wore long elegant robes of a deep sienna, embroidered in gold thread with thousands of tiny pearls, and nudging by his strong yet slender build it was not hard to guess that he must be one of the young warriors.

"I have not seen you around before." The ellon spoke, definitely trying to establish conversation with her, his hand gently placing his own glass of fine red wine on the table, the gentle smile never leaving his face.

"I have not been around for a while." She answered, returned the polite smile, but not giving him too much information. He seemed nice, welcoming, but she did not know why she could not find the interest to really be invested in this conversation, even if it had barely started. The ellon, however, had other ideas.

"That explains it. I am certain I would have remembered a face as beautiful as yours." His dashing smile never left his face, and she surely would have judged him as pretentious had it not been for the kind look in his eyes. And yet, all she did was offer him an equally kind smile in return not adding anything else.

"I am Elhael." He introduced himself, seeming to not be about to settle for her silence, his long strands of ebony hair brushing against his rich robes as he inclined his head slightly.

"It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Lord Elhael." She inclined her head gently in return, and yet her polite words somehow managed to make him let out a small chuckle in return.

"Will you not tell me your name, my Lady?" He was looking at her curiously now, his kind violet eyes looking at her as if she was suddenly the most interesting thing he had seen, and still it somehow made her feel more certain that she was not really interested in him in the slightest. True he seemed kind and gentle, somewhat sweet, but he seemed so….so flat, as if that was all there was to him….but still, he was handsome….really handsome.

"I am Indilene." She complied. Even if she was not interested in the conversation she knew her manners, and she would never be as rude as to not offer her name when he had already offered his. Elhael seemed pleased with her answer, smiling brightly at her, and she forced her small smile to look believable.

"Would you dance with me, Lady Indilene?" A pale extended in her direction, expectant, waiting for her to accept the invitation.

"I am a terrible dancer." She lied, throwing him an apologetic look for turning him down. She really did not feel like dancing, she did not feel like having to smile at him and twirl around, pretending to be enjoying herself.

"I see." She felt a pang of guilt at disappointed look in his violet eyes, even if his smile never left his face, only dropping slightly. He knew she was politely turning him down. But to her relief he did not push her, instead he offered her another kind smile before gracefully rising to his feet, his still half-full glass of wine in hand.

"You can always find me if you change your mind." He was optimistic, giving her one last gentle nod of the head before elegantly walking away, his sienna robes swirling silently behind him.

She remained looking at the front, noticing that nearly all of the tables were empty by now, almost all of the elves now dancing merrily. The millions of candles around the room were beginning to burn down, the wax dripping like golden tears, pooling over the tablecloths. The room would be dark soon. It was her favorite part of the Autumn Feast.

Smiling softly to herself, she reached out for the crystal jar left in the center of the table, the many little scraps of parchments lying neatly inside it. What should she write this year? Last time she had been at this feast she barely knew who to write, so this would be her first time adding her own little piece of paper. Her hands gave the intricate silver lid a pull, being pulled away from her wondering mind as the lid would not twist open. She tried again, but no matter how much force she put into it the lid would not open. Who had closed this thing so tightly?! She struggled once more, putting all of her force into it, and nearly jumping in surprise as a slender hand suddenly took the jar from her own straining ones.

She immediately looked up, once again not having heard anyone approach, not letting her eyes betray her utter surprise. She needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. He twisted the lid open with a single fluid motion of the hand, as if it did not require any strength at all, gently placing it back on the table in front of her, the intricate silver lid next to it. She should have said thank you, but instead she found herself being once again completely quiet, watching curiously as he silently pulled a chair back, vibrant scarlet robes dancing elegantly around him as he slowly sat down at her table, not waiting for an invitation. And yet, what made her remain silent, her lips curving up in an invisible knowing smile was the almost predictable way in which he chose a seat two spots away from her, leaving an empty chair in the middle. Close, yet at a distance. She could not tell why, but she found it so amusing, so intriguing, as if even if he appeared always so enigmatic she found his behavior so foreseeable. It had been just like that the last time she had seen him, at the terraces, as if he would allow closeness but not too much of it.

The Crown Prince did not say anything for a while, sitting tall and regal two seats from her, unreadable emerald eyes overlooking at the dancing elves some space ahead, just as she had been doing some minutes before. And once again she felt strangely drawn to his impenetrable eyes, as if she would never know what he was thinking, what he was really looking at. And she did not speak either, not knowing exactly why but as if somehow feeling that he would break the silence when he felt like speaking, that strange intriguing distance always present like a barrier around this elegant, powerful figure.

"You do not have to stay silent." And he did speak. That voice, as serene and royal as his figure, yet as unreadable and gentle as his eyes, the sole sound of it managing to make her stomach twist in a tight mangle of nerves, even if she would never show it.

"You do not have to stay silent either." She replied softly, slowly, even though the words left her mouth before she could really think of them. "Your Highness." She added quickly, having momentarily forgotten his title in her curiosity.

The corner of his mouth curve up in a faint smile, his emerald eyes turning to meet hers for the first time that night, and once again she felt herself being pierced by that impenetrable powerful gaze, as green as the brightest of leaves, so sealed, so composed. She let him look, feeling as he could see right through her own eyes and into her very soul, and for a second she wished it could be the same with him. She had no trouble in letting him see through her, she never had had a problem with letting her thoughts, her very self reachable inside her eyes. What was hiding behind those cautious emerald orbs?

"I thought he would never leave." He spoke again, this time managing a smile to draw on her face, immediately knowing to who he was referring to. Elhael. Had he been watching? And what was he doing? Why was he suddenly sitting here at her table? She did not reply, her eyes almost immediately dropping to her glass of wine, picking it up nervously only to place it back down as she found it empty by now.

Slender fingers slid his exquisite cut crystal glass in her direction, stretching almost his full arm to reach across the empty seat. Her eyes met his for a second, almost hesitant, as if asking for permission she did not need before talking the offered drink in her hands. Nevermind permission or not a drink of the fine wine seemed a necessity at the moment, especially as she felt those unreadable powerful eyes still studying her carefully. She could see his eyes stopping at her wrists, were many bracelets lay clinking against one another as she moved, seeming to be looking at each one of them, making her feel more self-conscious than before.

"Why so many bracelets?" He asked, his voice gentle, curious, his eyes still studying her carefully, as if trying to figure her out.

"I like them." She answered once again before she could even realize it, as if her mind found it so easy to talk to him while at the same time so difficult and fretful. Her eyes dropped once again to her wrists, absently gazing at her many bracelets. She had never really thought about it much, only wearing as many as she liked, being her preferred item of jewelry. She did not know why but she liked to hear them twinkling by her hands….necklaces and rings had never really been her thing. .

He did not question her further about the bracelets, and odd smile, as unreadable as is piercing faze, drawing on his handsome face. Instead, he gracefully reached for the now opened jar in the center of the table, silently picking out one of the many little parchments and one of the tiny, thin pieces of graphite that had been sitting in a neat line around the jar. She watched for a moment, the sound of the flutes and the joyful chatter seemingly forgotten as her eyes carefully observed his hand holding the graphite to the paper, starting to trace something in an elegant slanted calligraphy. And then, his eyes flew to hers once more, as if he could somehow feel her gaze on him, emerald irises as impenetrable and unreadable as before, and yet gleaming with the hint of an invisible grin.

"Are you attempting to read what I write?" His voice seemed to mock her, yet his face remained as calmed as ever, his hand suddenly flying to cover up the little piece of paper, and for a second she felt like an elfling being caught doings mischief. Elves are not supposed to share what you write for the Autumn Feast, their hopes for the comings Spring.

"No." She replied almost too quickly, kicking herself silently as her quick reply obviously contradicted her words. And the knowing grin that drew on his flawless face told her that he had easily picked up her lie. "Besides, my Lord, it is not as if anyone could possibly read all the way up there." She added quickly, as if trying to offer false proof that her answer had been the truth, her hand gently motioning across the empty seat left in between the two, and oh Valar she was thankful that elves did not blush for her face would have been as scarlet as his robes.

The Crown Prince raised one eyebrow, the expression suddenly making him resemble the King more than ever. And then, contrary to whichever words she was expecting as a reaction, he moved. Silently, slowly, he rose to his feet, every move so effortless, so fluid and elegant, one hand pulling back the seat that had been empty in between the two of them and peacefully sitting down there, now right next to her. And she could not exactly tell why, but that small insignificant action suddenly made a welcoming warmth fill her heart, making her feel more comfortable than she had a few seconds ago. She did not know him much– by the Valar he was the Crown Prince, of course no one really knew _him_ \- but if there was one thing she had learned from the only two times she had interacted with him was that he liked his distance, always so cautious, so calculating, so…royal. And now he was so close.

Curious, more than ever, her eyes once again traveled to the little parchment in front of him, his hand suddenly flying faster than her gaze and falling right on top of it once more.

"Stop trying to read it." He added, a small smile still present on his face, a smile that she could not quite read, that piercing emerald gaze still fixed on her. And then, unexpectedly he removed his hand from the parchment, her curious eyes flying to it once more only to find….

"That is not even writing!" She exclaimed before she could stop herself, a round of laughter leaving her mouth at the squiggly random lines that were traced over the little piece of paper. She had been so curious, and the parchment had had nothing written on it.

Once again he did not say anything, only letting out a soft laugh, the sound feeling odd to her, yet refreshing, like the soft breeze of spring after a long merciless winter. It was a real laugh, not one of his kind and well-practiced smiles, and for a second, a too short second in her opinion, his eyes softened, the hard stunning emerald shell breaking momentarily, suddenly swirling in liquid green. So there _was_ more to him.

"Does the King know that you will ceremoniously burn a parchment with nothing written on it?" She spoke, as if her soul wanted nothing more than to keep speaking to him, keep getting a reaction, a smile, perhaps another laugh, even if her mind was still wracking with nerves. "Your Highness." She added quickly once more, forgetting again that he was still the Crown Prince and she needed to address him thus. And yet the small, almost shy smile never left his face.

"I will eventually write something for the burning." His voice was a soft as his eyes as he spoke, one of his hands waving away at her at the mention of his title, as if right now he did not really care. "What will you write this year?"

"I believed you were not supposed to share that." One of her hands reached for the jar, picking up a piece of paper and a graphite, narrowing her eyes lightly at him. Why was it so easy to talk to him, so natural, and at the same time so hard? "This is the first time I will write something."

That seemed to get a reaction from him, his eyes looking at her curiously, for the first time not seeming the tall and powerful Crown Prince he was, but merely an elf, just like any other, just like her. "This is you first time attending this feast?"

"I attended a couple of times before, but I did not know how to write then." And ironically now that she _could_ write, she did not know _what_ to write.

"In that case you should really think about what you will write, you want it to be something meaningful." He said softly, emerald eyes looking at her carefully, deeply, once again making her feel as if he could see directly into her very self, so very unreadable, yet not so unreachable this time.

"As meaningful as what you have written, my Lord?" She let out a chuckle, not yet being able to look away from those consuming forest green eyes, one hand silently gesturing to the little parchment that lay forgotten in front of him, full of wiggly random lines. And there it was again, that carefree refreshing laugh, the one that momentarily broke his façade and reached his eyes with a gleaming light.

"Perhaps this does have meaning to me. How would you know if it does or does not?" He questioned her in between his quiet laugh.

"That is not writing!" Now it was her turn to laugh, shaking her head lightly at his words. All around the room the candles had slowly begun to burn out, the gran halls now darker than before, with only a few flames still dancing weakly.

"And who says it cannot be meaningful if it is not writing? Perhaps I do understand what it says here." His voice was as calmed as before, yet somehow different, more….real, less authoritative. He was making her doubt herself now, he was playing her again…or was he telling the truth?

"Very well." She said, her hand suddenly running over her own piece of parchment, tracing a bunch of random lines herself before putting the graphite down upon the golden tablecloth. "There. I wrote something meaningful too."

"No, you did not." His eyes sparkled with the ghosting smirk on his lips, a hand reaching for the glass of wine before taking a small sip from it, this time making both of her delicate eyebrows rise.

"Perhaps I did." Why could she not sound as convincing as he did? She had always been such a bad liar.

"No." The smirk never left his face as he spoke, and although mocking her it was also gentle, once again so real. Was he letting some of his barriers down? "You merely did that to mock mine, therefore it is not really meaningful to you. But mine still could mean something to me, and you would not know."

"Well, does it?" She asked doubtfully, suddenly not knowing whether or not he was telling the truth or simply playing her once more. And for a long moment his eyes met hers, once again piercing to her and seeming to make it impossible for her to look away, unreadable, yet suddenly welcoming, like warm liquid emeralds swirling into and endless abyss.

"No." He spoke finally, casually, shaking his head lightly, as her eyes widened slightly in both surprise and exasperation.

"Arahaelon!" She spoke before she could realize what she had just said, her heart suddenly stopping momentarily as her eyes widened. She had overstepped a line, now she was sure of it. She had always called Legolas merely by his name, but because they had grown together when elflings, but that did not give her the right to address any other royal so improperly.

She mentally kicked herself. It had taken that word, that careless informal address for the Crown Prince to suddenly stiffen slightly next to her. Her heart constricted painfully but she did not speak, did not dare move, it was as if suddenly all that openness, that warm and welcoming aura around him had been quickly replaced by the tall and strong Crown Prince façade once more. His emerald eyes continued to look at her, not moving an inch, and yet they were once more so impenetrable, so unreachable, and she froze under his gaze, wishing more than anything that she could see what he was thinking at this precise moment.

She should have guessed this reaction. It was always the same, as if whenever anyone got close enough he pulled away. He had done that before. She should have known. He had been speaking to her so casually before, even laughing, but she _had_ to ruin it by stepping over an invisible line, the line she knew he did not like crossed. And it hurt, even if she did not show it, even if she stayed as silent and unmoving as he was, waiting patiently for him to speak first, to either leave or chastise her for addressing him by his given name. And it hurt more for she somehow, not really knowing exactly how, understood that for him titles meant distance, meant that she was talking to the Crown Prince, whereas his name…his name meant _him_ , that part of him that seemed so very concealed….but why? And yet, more than that, more than everything, what hurt the most was the fact that she had felt it, only moments ago, that tingling, that awakening, in her spirit that seemed to pull her to his, ever so barely, so weak, but it had been there. But she would never really reach him…he would not let her.

All around them the ample room was dark, all of the candles having burned out, and she could hear the sound of excited footsteps reaching towards the halls many tall doors and into the moonlit gardens outside, leaving the room in silence, a silence that had never felt has haunting, as hollow as it did now.

"I must go." He spoke, his voice low, barely even audible, even though his tall posture did not relax, and yet, more than distant, he sounded confused, as if debating something with himself. His lips curved up into a smile as he slowly rose to his feet, but this one never reached his eyes, his hand absently picking up the piece of paper with his squiggly lines from the table. She nodded silently, finding nothing she could really say now. Of course he needed to leave, he needed to be at the front with his father for the burning. And that moment had come at such an opportune time…

She sat there for a while, watching his back as he gracefully walked out of the room, following the crowd of elves, scarlet robes trailing softly behind him. She followed shortly after, her mind reminding her to try and find her aunt and uncle, but deciding against it. The last thing she felt like now was to have company. She walked absently through the gardens and towards the long riverbank, looking but not really seeing at the crowd of elves that walked merrily around her, some of the few elflings pulling impatiently at their parents' hands to walk faster.

She stopped when the crowd did, eyes looking up to fid, as expected, the King standing regal and tall by the water's edge, holding in his hand the only flaming candle left, the orange light sparkling gorgeously on his long formal golden robes. He was there, next to his father, his brother Tadion and sister Lossenel standing next to him as well. The crowd fell silent as the King spoke but she did not really pay attention to what he said, only watching as the Elvenking moved the candle towards the Crown Prince, the latter gently setting the piece of paper in flames before dropping it in a little silver tray, hands placing softly over the water, letting the gentle current wash it away. Prince Tadion followed closely behind, and then the Princess, and then once by one all of the elves in the crowd approached their King, more and more parchments going into flames, the rives now alive with thousands of dancing flickering lights swirling down the current. She did not approach the King, she had written nothing to burn. And secretly only she knew that neither had the Crown Prince, the piece of parchment that he had burned ceremoniously with supposed hopes and wishes for the coming Spring containing nothing but a bunch of random lines.

All around her the crowd was chatting joyfully again, smiles adorning every single face, and she copied them, watching as they moved around, some going towards the King, others away from him to give space to those who had yet to burn their parchments, while other simply sat by the river's edge. A hand touched her shoulder, making her immediately turn around, only to be petrified by a pair of large emerald eyes, and for the first time, now standing up she noticed just how tall he was, standing nearly a full head above her.

"My Lord." She said, nit finding any other words, but he stopped her by elegantly raising a hand, deep emerald eyes still looking intently at hers, appearing slightly confused, eyes unreadable, as if trying to make some sort of decision.

"Arahaelon is fine." He spoke, lips curving up in the faintest of smiles, but this time it reached his eyes. He did not say anything else, simply turning around and once again walking through the crowd of moving elves to where the King stood, joining his siblings in the center of the ceremony…

So here is chapter 3! I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!

Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter: Teddy2104, mMy, and my guest reviewer. This chapter is dedicated to you!

Also this story is dedicated for Martine9295, thank you for being so amazing!

Love,

Elena


	4. Lost

The wind sang sweetly over the falling golden and red leaves, making them float in the chilled breeze. The orange carpet that now covered the ample green grass of the Palace's gardens crunched deafly underneath her slow footsteps. Far through the thick golden canopy the Sun was setting in the horizon, the cool afternoon air slowly dying away in bright rays of red and pink that painted the sparse floating clouds in all shades of orange and violet.

Almost absentmindedly, she gripped her deep cerulean cloak closer to her body against the icy gentle breeze that lazily brushed her loose strands of ash colored hair over her shoulders. This would be a cold winter, the end of autumn was already proving to be colder than usual. Not that the cold bothered her, as elves were not affected by it, but it still felt more comfortable to be huddled underneath the thick heavy cloak.

The faint chirping of a bird could be heard somewhere among the dense canopy above her head, merging harmoniously with the sound of the wind ruffling against the dry leaves. Late afternoon had become her preferred time to escape from the crowded halls of the Palace and walk through the usually deserted gardens. The few times she had opted for taking walks earlier in the afternoon she had found herself running into many finely dressed ladies that seemed to have had the same idea as her, hence being forced into polite little conversations that she did not really care about.

Besides, the past two weeks had given her a new reason to prefer her walks through the gardens at this late hour instead, just when the sun was beginning to set and the chores of the day where usually over. She never knew for sure whether or not she would find him there, always in the same secluded garden facing the overly large pond with the floating water lilies. And in part it was the thrill of the unexpected that kept her coming to the same garden every afternoon. Some days she would find him there, sitting casually in the long chaises by the water's edge, normally reading something or simply lost in thought. Other times she would have to wait some time for him to show up briefly before they both had to retire for dinner, and other times he did not come at all. Yet she could always come, even if just for the possibility of him showing up at some point.

The meetings were odd, yet refreshing, never planned, never set in advance. And just as he had been almost every time they met, she could never really foresee just how distant or how invested he would be in their short conversations. She felt as if every day was the Autumn feast all over again. Some afternoons he would talk more freely, a few times even laugh, yet others he would barely say a word at all. The only thing constantly present was that careful wall that seemed to surround him, that glassy emerald barrier that sealed away all the swirling thoughts and power in the depths of his forest green eyes.

She had also learned that he was not entirely comfortable with her calling him by his given name, even though he had given her permission to do so. And yet, she had somehow managed to know when to call him by his first name and when not, as if slowly but surely she could start reading his mood, using his first name only on those days she found him more talkative. And still she kept coming, every afternoon, every day more eager than the next, longing more and more to spend a few minutes in his presence, even if he would not talk.

Her thin fingers pushed a long strand of her ash colored hair behind her left ear, her feet rounding the corner into the very familiar garden she had been looking for. The vast pond came first into view, the black still surface mirroring the oranges and reds o the sky above. A few tall trees hunched over the water's edge to one side, long branches softly kissing the water surface with their bright golden leaves.

He was there. Her lips curved up into the faintest of smiles as her feet slowly guided her towards the figure currently laying down on one of the long chaises. Her smile only grew slightly in surprise as she rounded the piece of furniture. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood lay completely asleep, deep emerald eyes glazed over and staring lost into space, fine hair fanning softly over the cushions. A soft warm feeling spread over her heart at the sight. For the first time, fast asleep, he looked completely unguarded, the handsome features of his marble face looking so peaceful, completely relaxed. He looked tired. One of his pale hands lay softly over the cushion underneath his head while the other lay hanging from the edge of the chaise.

Her eyes turned down to the grass, where a book lay in a forgotten heap by his hanging hand, lying half-way open with the pages wrinkling messily from where it had obviously slipped from his steady grip. Silently, she bent down to pick it up, being as careful as she could with the damaged pages, gently unfolding all the wrinkling corners so that his book did not get ruined. And yet, as her fingers carefully arranged the messed pages, she noticed that instead of the fine neat writing she had expected to find on the yellowing parchments, her eyes fell on perfectly traced images. These were drawings. And they were flawless, her eyes glued to the thousands of delicate lines that outlined the perfect shape of the tree in the center of the page she was currently arranging. Had he drawn this? She had to suppress a nervous giggle from forcing its way out of her lips. If it had been him to draw this, then oh Valar he must have been laughing so much at her horrid attempt at drawing the water lilies some weeks ago.

She wanted to flip through the pages, to find out just how many drawings lay hidden in the interiors of this book, yet she gently closed it shut. She would not go through his stuff while he was asleep and could not consent to it. Instead, she made her way to the tiny side table next to where slept, the hem of her dress brushing deafly against the soft green grass. Gently, she placed the book on the table, noticing a half-drunk cup of tea sitting forgotten upon the surface. Her eyes narrowed slightly, immediately picking up the faint smell of pain relieving herbs infused in the tea, her honey colored irises immediately flying to look back at the Crown Prince, only to find still peacefully asleep. Was something wrong that she had missed?

She did not have the heart to wake him, instead moving to sit down on the empty chaise next to him as silently as she could, letting her eyes dance lazily over the floating lilies. She had always found this pond so strange yet so fascinating. The majority of the water lilies floated clustered in the center of the pond, very few lay near the edges.

She did not know exactly for how long she sat there, never once growing bored as the red sky turned slowly into violent and then into black, the pale half-moon casting a frail trail of light over the water mirror. It was only after one or two hours after the Sun had set that the Crown Prince stirred from his slumber, her eyes softly moving to his figure. His emerald blinked dazedly a couple of times fingers rubbing the sleep from his eyelids.

"Good Morning." She spoke softly, his surprised eyes turning immediately to glance in her direction as if for the first time realizing that he was not alone. She had chosen her seat carefully, sitting on the piece of furniture next to him yet keeping the small side table in between them, allowing a distance that she knew he was comfortable with.

A small smile flashed in her direction, accompanied by a nod of his head as his still blinking eyes turned to look at his surroundings with a slightly furrowed brow, as if slightly confused that it was currently completely dark outside, and she had to suppress a giggle at his uncharacteristically puzzled expression. And then his eyes widened slightly, nearly jumping as he suddenly sat up straight on the chaise, impenetrable and powerful irises turning to look at her direction.

"Nobody came looking for me?" He asked, and judging by the puzzled and slightly startled look on his serene face she could read that he had most certainly been expecting someone to come wake him at some point.

"Nobody has come." She answered, her voice as calmed and soft as before, yet a light chuckle escaped her lips as she was quick to guess his predicament. "Did you miss a meeting or something?"

A faint smile grew on the corner of his lips as he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He still looked somewhat tired, and yet the fact that he had remained less guarded than usual made her heart flutter all the more warmly.

"I did." He said, those endless unreadable eyes turning to look at her briefly before he casually lay back down against the cushions, her heart once again slightly swelling at that tiny seemingly insignificant action. Yet with him, it said tons, understanding that around her he did not feel the need to always sit up perfectly straight and composed. Still she could not help but feel a pang of worry appearing at the pit of her stomach as he casually lay back down, her eyes momentarily flying to the now cold cup of healing tea.

"Are you all right?" She asked cautiously, proud that she still managed to sound perfectly casual and calmed not reacting when, as expected, his powerful unreadable eyes flew once again in her direction, piercing at her silently from long moments.

She did not miss as his eyes quickly, almost imperceptibly, shifted to where the forgotten cup lay on the small side table before returning to glance at her, knowing exactly from where her question came from.

"Had a headache." He spoke, his expression always perfectly calmed and composed as those immensely powerful emerald eyes continued to stare at her as sealed and silent as the blackened mirror of the pond's surface. She could not tell whether he was telling the truth or whether he had made up a lie, but she dismissed the thoughts, knowing that he would add more if he wanted to.

"Are you in trouble for missing whatever meeting it is you missed?" She changed the subject, absently crossing her legs, letting herself sit back comfortably against the sold silk cushions. Part of her had wanted to call him by his name right away, yet another part of her told her to wait a while, not wanting for him to tense and back away once more, especially since this night felt like of those night sin which he was up for talking more freely. Her heart was already fleeting inside her chest as she tried her best to appear as composed as he did. And yet it somehow saddened her that he always felt the need to be a little distant, even through the times where he let some of his barriers down.

"The guards knew I was here." A soft smile drew on his face as he spoke, the barely noticeable casual tone in his voice letting her know that he felt more at ease talking to her than he had some weeks ago. The thought of that making her suddenly nervous, almost oddly scared. And yet she could still feel the faint stirring of her spirit, as if slowly fluttering more and more whenever in his presence, frail and barely there, yet fascinating and nerve-wracking. "If none of them came wake me then I guess I was excused from attending."

His eyes danced briefly over the book now laying on the little side table, and she could tell he knew she had been the one to place it there.

"I dropped it?" He concluded, a hint of wariness suddenly flashing over his calmed sealed eyes, and she instantly knew that whatever it was he had in this book he did not appreciate seen, and she was glad she had decided not to invade in his privacy.

"Quite messily, I must add." She kept her casual tone going. Conversation had always come easy to her. "I placed it there so that it would not get ruined on the grass."

"Thank you." He nodded his head slightly and she was again faced with that nerve wracking feeling that his eyes could see straight through her. And she somehow knew that he was very well aware that she had not looked through the pages, giving her that unsettling feeling of not knowing exactly which of the two he was thanking her for.

"Do you know why the lilies grow only in the center of the pond?" She asked the question that had been nagging her mind for the long hours she had sat there waiting for him to wake, once again managing to change the subject of the conversation.

"It is shallower there." He answered, as if it was a well-known thing, his perfectly serene face turning to look in her direction as he slowly sat up on the chaise to face her better. "They cannot grow where it is deep."

"In the center of the pond?" A thin eyebrow rose on her forehead, slightly puzzled yet intrigued by his answer. "It is shallower in the center of the pond?"

"Yes." He answered. That soft smile that made butterflies flutter inside her stomach suddenly appearing in his face.

"Have you ever seen a pond, my Lord?" She let out a light laugh, her eyes now openly mocking him. "They tend to be shallower at the edges and deeper as you approach the center, that is what makes water stand still in them in the first place"

This time, one of his eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and for a split second that glassy barrier in his emerald eyes seemed to lessen somewhat. "I can assure you it is shallower where you see the water lilies, which is in the center."

"You sound so sure about it."

"Do you wish I prove it to you?" A faint hint of a smirk crossed his unreadable emerald eyes, an expression that she had never before seen on his face, and she suddenly had the unquestionable feeling that if she accepted she would be most certainly proved wrong.

"Prove how?" She let her honey colored eyes stare deeply into his, unwavering, already feeling that she would be wrong but already temped by his request. For the first time, the faint gleam in his powerful eyes seemed to hold an undeniable teasing spark she had seen so many times on Legola's eyes before, except that his face remained as gentle and serene as always. Oh yes, she about to be proven wrong.

"What would you be willing to bet that I can get to the water lilies without going deeper than knee length in the water?" That took her by surprise, yet she could not suppress her grin from growing larger, seriously considering his words.

She already suspected, and most certainly rightly, that should she accept she would lose. But then again, the faint possibility of wining the bet and watching him accidentally falling into the pond sounded too good to pass by. Besides, how would he even attempt to get there in the first place without going further that knee deep? Then a sudden thought crossed her mind. Maybe the entire pond was shallow, and he already knew that?

Considering his words but not yet giving an answer, Indilene rose to her feet, making her silent way towards the water's edge, where a few worn down stone steps disappeared into the black inert surface. She was not going to let him outwit her so easily. Searching around until she found a long enough stick on the ground – longer than what would be his knee-length- she proceeded to insert the stick into the water trying to feel where the bottom was.

She nearly dropped the stick as she heard a chorus of chuckles right behind her, that free round of peaceful laughter she had heard only very occasionally. She had not heard him following her. She was growing to like that sound, so uncharacteristically carefree and unguarded.

"Are you testing the depth of the pond?" His eyebrow rose again, phrasing the statement as a question even though she knew he was already sure of what she was doing.

She did not answer, shaking her head slightly as she continued to insert the stick into the water, going deeper and deeper until her whole hand was submerged in the ice cold liquid, the stick not yet reaching the bottom. It was deeper than the knee. Valar, it seemed even deeper than the waist if not more.

"Even if where the lilies are the pond is shallower, as you say, you cannot possibly get there without swimming." She added, a victorious smile forming on her lips, yet still wondering what it was he had in mind.

"And if I can?" Now it was his eyes the ones to mock her, his long light blond hair glistening in silver undertones at the pale moonlight. He was standing close to her now, closer than he usually would at least, towering a whole head over her.

"Well then I will admit that I was wrong." She added quickly letting out a light laugh as she continued. "But if you _do go_ deeper than the knee – which is most likely to happen- you still have to reach the water lilies, even if you have to swim all the way there"

His emerald eyes narrowed at her request seeming to ponder on it for a short time. "Very well. I will do that. But it should be the same case for you. If I do get there without going deeper than the knee, then it is you who have to swim to the water lilies."

She considered it for a moment, weighing the odds of her loosing. But by Elbereth who was she kidding, of course she would agree to it, if only to see him try.

"Very well." She finally said, crossing her arms over her chest, her heart once again fluttering at the smile that grew on his lips, that rare unguarded smile, almost reserved, that she was now sure very few elves had ever witnessed.

Then, without another word, the Crown Prince suddenly slipped his shoes off, the fine leather slippers – which she had seen elves wear usually with their formal robes around the palace- now completely discarded at the water's edge. Then he proceeded to unclasp his thick deep green cloak from around his shoulders, letting it drop casually over the grass, and for the first time she noticed that he had indeed been wearing formal robes underneath, no doubt dressed up for the meeting he did not attend.

She watched in silence, trying to suppress her chuckles as he stepped into the first stone step, now ankle deep in the water, a sudden very un-princely expression crossing his face, making it impossible for her to suppress her amusement any longer.

"It is cold." He complained, and she suddenly understood what his expression had meant.

"I know. I touched it." They may not be susceptible to the cold as men where, but that did not mean that the incredibly low temperatures of the water would feel at all pleasant. The water was freezing. "Do you still wish to swim there?"

"You will be the one swimming here." He spoke as he turned his back to her, looking deeply at the water surface for a long second.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Emerald eyes glared at her briefly. Not answering her before he suddenly took a calculated long step forward. And to her surprise he still remained ankle deep only.

She watched as he took a second, then a third, then a fourth step forward, always managing to stay ankle deep, holding the front of his robes as to not trip over them. He was far from the edge of the pong now, but still only half-way to the center of it. She had also noticed that he did not walk in a straight line, every step slightly zig-zagging, and he always waited for a couple of long seconds before taking the next step. His steps also varied in length, some short and some nearly making him jump. And she nearly kicked herself at how naïve she had been. He was walking over rocks. He had known where the tall rocks lay underneath the black surface. Yet it was so strange, so refreshing to see him acting like that, almost completely devoid of his Crown Prince façade. There was so much more to him that she barely even knew.

By the seventh step he seemed to stop longer than before, and even from the distance she could see his emerald eyes concentrating hard on the water surface, seeming to be searching all around him.

"Are you stuck?" She called from the water's edge, managing his head to turn in her direction.

"It is a little too far." He admitted from the distance.

"Then come back." She called, waving a hand in his direction even though he did not see it. "I believe you now. It is not worth you falling in the pond." That would be cruel with the water this cold, not matter how amusing the sight would be.

And yet, contrary to her words he leaped forward, splashing loudly over the water as the hem of his robes got completely wet. However, he did manage to land precisely on the rock he had been looking at underneath the water, still not going deeper and the ankle. After that the path seemed to become easier, and in nearly no time he was standing there, ankle deep now in the middle of the thousands of floating water lilies. And she had been proven wrong.

"Fine, you win." She called, pulling her cloak closer to her body against the sudden chilly wind, but made no attempt to fulfil her part of the bet.

"You have to come here too, remember?" His voice was gentle, yet she did not miss the teasing tone in it, as he waited in the center of the pond.

She was about to complain, thinking about it for a second before deciding that it was only fair that she did her part. Yet there was no way she would throw herself to swim on that freezing water! Instead, she too discarded her own slippers and cloak, stepping down onto the first stone step just like he had done previously. And Valar the water was cold, making let out a squeak that he silently laughed at.

Her eyes searched frantically over the water surface, but all she could see was a perfectly still black mirror. She could see nothing underneath! How did he manage to see where the rocks where?

"Where do I go now?" She laughed, only glad that did not seem to mind at all that she had chosen to walk to where he was instead of swimming as she had agreed.

"To your left." A pale finger pointed in that direction from the distance, yet no matter how much she looked she still could not spot the rock. Was she supposed to just jump blindly? But then how was she supposed to know how far to jump?

"I cannot see anything!" She was starting to regret her decision, trying to make up her mind between jumping in the direction he had said and simply stepping out of the water while she still could.

"Just look at the water." She obeyed, letting her eyes fall on the indicating point staring deeply at the pitch black surface. "The water is not completely still. It will eventually splash lightly where the tip of the rock is, wait for it."

She was about to protest at his words when she saw it. Almost too faintly for a looking eye to notice, the water did splash to her left, indicating there was something shallow underneath. But how had he noticed this in the first place? Deciding to go against her odds, she took the leap of faith, nearly crying out in surprise when she indeed landed on something shallow instead of falling all the way to her head in ice cold water.

"Now look slightly to your right, not too much." She once again followed the instructions of his gentle voice looking in the indicated direction. "Wait for the water to touch the stone."

And she saw it once more, the faint splash of white over the still dark surface. And she jumped once more, once again surprised at her safe landing. And it was the same routine for the remainder of the obscured path through the hidden rocks. She would wait for him to indicate the direction and then she would look until she could see where the rock lay hidden underneath. And then, sooner than she had anticipated she found herself stepping into a vast expanse of smooth flat stone, a hand carefully curling over her arm to stabilize her after the last jump.

"This is completely flat." She exclaimed bewildered, her heart still skipping a bit at the soft sensation of his slender fingers still curler over her thin arm. He had never touched her before, not once, only that gentle tap on the shoulder the day of the Autumn Festival, and she did not know why but she had not imagined his strong grip to be this gentle. It only lasted a short second though, his fingers quickly letting go of her once she had found her footing.

Her eyes immediately danced over the thousands of flower lilies pooling at her feet. They looked larger from closer, the delicate white petals shimmering in silver and platinum at the moon light. Yet she was still surprised at the perfectly flat stone surface her feet where currently standing on. It was much too large to be a rock, and, as she took a couple of steps forward, going deeper and deeper through the lilies, she found out that it was not made from one piece of stone but many, pieces perfectly cut in squares to fit against one another.

"This is a constructed platform." She was unable to hide her puzzlement from showing on her face at her discovery, her deep hazel eyes searching for his impenetrable emerald ones.

"It used to be above water but the river has flooded it over the years. And the lilies took over." Was all he offered as an explanation, once again making her feel incredibly young next to him. It felt so odd being there, in the middle of the pond but only ankle deep, having nothing but a mirror of black water surrounding her from all sides. She was sure they must have looked overly strange standing there if anyone where to look from the water's edge.

"Do you like them?" The question took her off guard, her head once again turning to meet his silent emerald eyes, only to find two orbs of liquid green, as deep as the forest around, making her slightly petrify in her spot, unable to look away. There was no barrier. For the first time she was seeing straight into his endless eyes, swirling so gentle, so powerful, drowning her in their vast swirling expanse.

"I do." She answered, knowing that he was talking about the water lilies. "But I am not sure I like what is happening underneath."

He laughed at that, once again that soft melodic laughter, so free yet always mildly quiet, and she knew he could tell she was talking about all the roots and moss and stems that led to the beautiful pure white flowers floating over the surface. They felt sticky over her bare feet, sometimes brushing uncomfortably against her ankles, feeling ticklish.

"You knew there was a path to get here." She accused him, once again wanting to call him by his name but not wanting to spoil the moment in case it was one of those nights in which he felt uncomfortable about it, especially now that he seemed to be letting her in.

"I did." He smirked softly. "I used to tease Tadion into following me only to watch him fall into the pond."

"You never told him where to step?"

"No." He confessed, and she did not know why but it made another round of light laughter escape her lips. "Let us head back before the water gets even colder."

She nodded her head at his words, following him as he started the march back through the hidden stones. The way back was resulting way easier than the way going, probably because this time he would wait on a rock and extend his arm for her to reach where he stood before he jumped to the next. And sooner than she had expected they had once again found that tricky space where a rock was a little too far away. He made the jump easily and extended his arm to catch her. But of course it would be her the one to have the ill luck. She did manage to land into the rock but right on the edge of it, waving her arms frantically to regain her balance, and pushing him as he tried to help her not fall.

Everything happened so fast. She waves her arms frantically around her to regain her balance, and she felt him trying to grasp her wrist as she pushed him. The water suddenly splashed loudly, her arms immediately flying to cover her face form the splattering drops, and she was vaguely aware that the hands that had been trying to stabilize her were suddenly gone. Her eyes grew wide, her mouth hanging half-open in a pout that resembled that of an elfling after having broken her mother's most precious vase.

A light blond head broke through the dark surface, long arms swaying around him to stay afloat. It was a wonder he could swim at all with all the weight from his robes. She opened her mouth to speak when she felt something cold suddenly sliding from her wrist. She moved quick, frantically trying to catch the slipping sapphire bracelet, the garment sliding through her clumsy fingers, bouncing once on the shallow rock before diving in the water with a silent splash. He had also quickly reacted, his hands flying up in time to catch it but being slightly too far away to do so, a suddenly very endearing alarmed and panicked expression crossing his face. He had accidentally unclasped it while trying to prevent her from pushing him in.

She was about to wave it off, but he was already diving underwater, trying to catch the lost bracelet while it sunk always deeper and deeper, but she already knew it was a lost cause. The water was pitch dark.

"I cannot see anything." A guilty expression crossed through his face as his head once again broke through the water, thick drops sliding down his cheeks and hair, making the pale strands look darker than usual.

"It is all right." She added quickly, offering him a gentle smile, trying to prevent him from going underwater once more. He would not be able to find it in this darkness. "Besides, I did not like that one that much." She lied, trying to wave him off from searching again.

"You like all of your bracelets." He contradicted her, his deep green robes swirling heavily around him in the water as he slowly glided to the rock upon which she crouched. And she was once again surprised at how much he noticed, how many details he saw.

"I will live without this one." She added with a laugh, trying to wave it off as unimportant He seemed overly guilty about it.

"I am sorry I pushed you." Was all that left her mouth, her eyes still wide as a round of nervous giggles left her mouth once he reached her side, still floating in the water. Yet to her utter surprise, he was laughing too, once again that carefree real laugh that she had grown used to for this night. For once the expression on his face did not seem as perfectly serene and composed, but open, smiling widely. And her heart one again swelled lightly at the sight. He was having fun.

"Is it too deep?" She asked having noticed that he had not stopped swimming in order to keep his head above water. He could not reach the bottom.

" _Cold_ is what it is." Even his voice sounded different, as if for a moment he had completely let go of his clamed and composed demeanor, for once allowing him to enjoy himself freely. "And deep." He laughed. "It is very deep here"

And with that she saw his head disappear once more underneath the water, leaving her to wait a few long moments before it emerged again, taking a long gulp of air. "I cannot reach the bottom even if I try. Your bracelet is lost."

"You are going to freeze, Arahaelon." His name slipped unnoticed from her lips before she could stop to think, and yet this time he did not seem to mind it too much, her hands trying to reach for him to pull him up to the rock where she was now crouching. The hem of her dress was entirely soaked by now, but she guessed she could survive that. For a second she feared that he would grab her extend hand and pull her in, but was glad when did not attempt that.

"I will meet you at the shore." He laughed once more, starting his slow steady swim over to where the few stone steps reached the grass outside. She was about to protest but found that it was indeed easier if only one person stood on the rocks instead of two, besides he was already soaked!

He helped her out of the last stone steps, her hand gripping to his fingers tightly for leverage. His skin was freezing. Absently drying her feet before slipping on her shoes once more she took a long glance at him. The tall and regal Crown Prince was dripping wet from head to toe, the lush bright green of his elegant robes now looking as dark as the pond as it continued to drip onto the grass, his hands placing the now drenched strand of his long hair behind his right ear. It was a sight that would be hard to forget, and a sight that few people would believe if she were to tell anyone.

"You must be freezing." She instantly approached him, her gentle hand moving to rest on his cheek before she had even realized it, before she could stop herself. It was so easy for her to approach others casually, enjoying closeness, that she constantly had to remind herself that for him it was not the same.

His cheek was softer than she had expect, and she pulled her hand immediately away not only at the sudden way in which he tensed at the unexpected contact, but at just how ice cold his now dripping skin felt. Even an elf would be shivering while drenched in water this cold and stepping out into the night.

And yet, what surprised her the most and made her stifle a silent gasp was when suddenly his cold fingers captured her retiring hand, slowly, almost tentatively placing it back over his cheek, just like she had previous done. She was sure that from this distance he would be able to hear her heart drumming loudly like a caged bird. He was always so unpredictable, so impossible to read. He standing so close to her now, closer than he had ever been, closer than any other elf had been to her. She could feel his eyes drowning hers, falling endlessly in those orbs of liquid forest, so powerful, so gentle, trapping her completely. His face was less than an inch from hers, so close she could feel his warm breath caressing her skin, his lips brushing against hers…

He suddenly pulled away, and the faint sound of approaching voices reached her ears, his lips placing instead a quick kiss on her cheek before he was already patiently slipping on his shoes and picking up his discarded robe and book. And Valar, whoever were the elves that choses than precise moment to take stroll through the neighboring garden she already disliked them so much, her heart sinking deeply inside her chest.

"I should head back inside before it gets later." She spoke quietly, managing to keep her voice sounding gentle and unaffected, she too slipping her cloak around her shoulders, pulling close to her at the cold air, thin droplets of rain starting to sprinkle from the night sky. It looked like she would get drenched after all.

"I will walk you, Indilene." His voice was calmed, once again that kind serene tone, and yet a smile grew on her face, her heart somehow not feeling as sunken as it had before. He had used her name, and she was happy to find out how much she liked the sound of it in his voice.

They did encounter the two elves that she now despised on their way back through the gardens, and although both of them greeted the Crown Prince with respectful bows of the head she did not even through a glance at them. To her slight disappointment, yet as she had expected, Arahaelon once again walked at a certain distance from her, any bystander would guess that he was merely politely accompanying her on her way back to the Palace. But she did not really mind that.

What had started out as a weak drizzle had turned into full pouring rain by the time they reached the long open terraces, and she found herself overly glad to step underneath the high ceiling, already drenched from head to toe. She did not even have time to say anything else to him, for as soon as they had stepped into the ample terraces, a familiar tall figure was already approaching him, dressed in a simple but elegant light blue tunic.

"Did the rain wake you?" Prince Tadion's carefree and teasing voice called to his brother as he approached, not seeming to have paid attention to her presence. Not wanting to draw any attention either, and simply slip away unseen she took one last glance at the Crown Prince, meeting his emerald eyes for a short second before offering him a small smile, continuing her way through the terraces and away from the Private Quarters of the Palace.

"How did you know I was asleep?" She could hear Arahaelon's voice answering as he too joined his brother in heading towards the opposite direction she went.

"You did not show up for dinner." Tadion's voice sounded farther now, his tone always teasing, always easy and casual before it suddenly turned into a lower more serious one. "Do you feel better?"

She did not hear anything else, her feet already taking her through the familiar labyrinth of long hallways and pointed arches, heading to the set of spacious chambers she now called home.

The rain did not let up the next day, nor the day after that, and not for the whole week, and she found herself slightly saddened of not being able to resume her visits to the garden. She had instead once again found herself submerged in her daily routine of helping her aunt in whatever it was she was doing, all thoughts of the night lit pond and the shallow platform with the water lilies momentarily forgotten, drifting off to the back of her mind.

Yet it all came back to her, detail by detail on a particular night, way after dinner when her uncle suddenly joined her and her aunt on the balcony, his face contorted into a puzzled expression as he held on to a small silver wrapped box.

"Were you expecting something to be brought here, Celairil?" Her uncle's deep blue eyes turned to meet his wife's equally puzzled grey eyes as she shook her head lightly, her uncle lowering himself to sit down next to her on the elegant couch. His long formal burgundy robes trailed his feet around his movements, and she could see that his long ash colored hair was still perfectly braided.

"Does it not have a name on it?" Her aunt questioned, pale hand reaching for the little box as her uncle shook his head lightly. Indilene let her eyes wonder to the box too, curious as she found that it did have a small tag attached to it, woven in the thin golden ribbon.

And her heart skipped a beat, a smile drawing on her face. "It is for me." Was all she offered as an explanation, trying to ignore the looks her aunt and uncle were suddenly throwing her. There, tied with the golden ribbon was a small piece of parchment, and yet instead of a name, instead of any written words were a collection of messily placed squiggly lines, lines that although reading nothing said too much to her. It was just what he written on that tiny piece of parchment during the Autumn Feast. The box was from Arahaelon, and nobody, except for her would know that.

Her finger's instantly opened the box, too aware yet not able to care less as her aunt and uncle continued to study her carefully. And she could not name what she felt, only knowing that her heart had never beating as fast, as warmly as it did as her eyes fell upon the contents of the box. Inside, in a soft velvet cushion lay four delicate bracelets, each the most exquisite ones her eyes had ever seen, and each adorned with a different precious gem: One in emeralds, one in rubies, one pearls and one in sapphires.

"It looks like your daughter is being mysteriously courted, Laeronor." Her aunts' soft voice chimed from her felt, and she did not miss the teasing mirthful tone in the usually sweet and motherly sound. Her aunt and uncle had always called her their daughter, even if she was in truth their niece, but they had raised her since she was in infant. She called them Ada and Nana too when addressing them.

Yet her uncle did not seem even half as pleased at the news as her aunt had been, his face adopting that serious expression that appeared at every feast every time an ellon approached her with an invitation to dance. But she did not hear whatever it was he added next, her fingers picking up the little note that was left in the bottom on the box. Scribbled with his slanted elegant calligraphy read only one word:

 _Sorry_

On the back of the note there were also only two short sentences.

 _You never wear less than three._

 _And another for the one lost._

Finally here is chapter 4! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Please let me know what you think!

Again thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my previous chapter, this chapter is specially for you! Amsim, BigBadBayMare, Witchy, Yaulewen, Jibril and guest!

Also this story is dedicated especially to Martine9295 for always keeping these characters alive! I hope you are having an AMAZING day!


	5. Stitches

He could hear the badly concealed chuckles since before the large wooden door opened, not even needing to look up from his reading to know exactly just who had pranced into the privacy of his bedchamber without even bothering to knock. He knew the deaf sound of those incredibly light footsteps by heart. And yet, he looked up, barely having time to shake his head lightly before the reports he had been reading were suddenly snatched from his hands, his sister absently depositing over a nearby table.

"I was working." He complained, although his voice gave away just how unbothered he was about it.

"You will have time for that later." Lossenel's voice was strained with concealed laughter, her icy blue-green eyes gleaming with a silent smirk as she causally dropped herself on the couch next to him, absently placing a strand of her long platinum hair behind one of her ears. It had been uncharacteristically left unbraided, he noticed, and it lacked the many tiny jewels that were usually pinned or intertwined with her locks.

Later? He almost wanted to laugh at that. He would not have any time later, he barely had any time now with all the endless meetings his father had been insisting he attended.

"Then what do you propose I do now?" He asked, raising one questioning eyebrow, his voice always the patient serene sound. Nevertheless, he could not help but smile at the nature of her interruption. She always did that, shamelessly letting herself into his chambers even when he had asked not to be disturbed with that bright smile of hers, but he could no longer find it in himself to be annoyed at that. With Tadion and Legolas it was different, not that any of them respected his privacy either, but he had always been much older than them and they knocked every once in a while. Lossenel….Lossie simply did not.

"I propose you see what Tadion is up to." She could not hold back her laughter this time as her sparkling eyes threw him _that_ look, the look that searched for an accomplice to her mockery. "Your balcony should have the perfect view."

He did not wait for more details, calmly standing up from the couch and crossing the large bedchamber and towards the balcony, gently pulling open the tall glass doors, Lossenel following closely behind him. The cold outside air hit his face, the wind almost freezing with the beginning of the winter. It did not take him long to find Tadion out in the gardens below, looking incredibly small in the distance, and he immediately let out a chuckle at what he saw. The sun was already dying in the horizon, casting red tones over the land and painting the clouds in all shades of purple. Down in the gardens Tadion was very openly- and very embarrassingly – showing himself off in the archery field to a group of ellith that had stopped to simply watch. And yet, he seemed to be so immersed in trying to show off his skill that he missed _miserably_ the target almost every time.

"Now you cannot wait to tease him about it, can you?" Lossenel chimed from his left, seeming to be capable of easily reading through his emerald eyes.

"I will do it casually." He grinned back at his sister as the Crown Prince was quickly replaced by the eldest brother. "At dinner, in front of Ada."

She laughed at that, the sound floating momentarily in the wind.

"He will get back at you." She warned, but he barely heard it, his attention caught by another tiny figure down in the gardens, seeming to be heading back towards the Palace.

"I will see you at dinner." He turned to his sister, his voice always perfectly serene as he placed a quick kiss on her cheek before heading back inside the bedchamber.

"Were you not working, Ar?" Lossenel asked almost immediately, and he could hear the smirk on her voice as she followed him closely behind. He absently took thick a cloak that had been lying forgotten on the back of a chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

"You said I would have time for that later." He replied, smiling at her sudden light laughter, but she did not ask anything else, simply throwing herself over his couch and already taking some of his books and lazily going through them. She would most probably had gone through all of his stuff by dinner time, every single item he possessed would be scrutinized, touched and inspected…..and some might even disappear from his chambers. Except for his sketches, of anything he possessed those were the only items that Lossenel never touched without asking first, even though she knew very well exactly where he kept them, she never went through them without his consent.

He shook his head lightly, silently heading outside the room and absently nodding his head in acknowledgement at the two guards standing dutifully on the hallway. And there it was again, that strange feeling that seemed to course through his body at the expectation of seeing her soon. He could not name it, could not particularly place it. It was a feeling that demanded him to walk faster, to reach the set of terraces where he knew she would sit for some hours as quickly as he could. He knew exactly where she would be, had known for some weeks now, their meeting place shifting from the gardens to an isolated set of terraces once the temperature got too cold for it to be too comfortable outside by the pond. And still, what surprised him, what scared him and confused him was that he always kept coming down to meet her.

It was quickly becoming the highlight of his days, the thing that he looked forward to every afternoon as the sun began to set. And still, oddly, her presence made him feel as he could no longer keep his barriers up, as if she could see and read through them, as if she could see _him_. Yet, she was always so careful about it, as if she somehow _knew_ just how much distance to keep every single time, without him needing to say anything. And still a part of him _needed_ that distance, while the other part wanted nothing than to get closer.

He reached the set of terraces he had been looking for in almost no time, even though he had forced himself to walk at his regular speed, having to greet a couple of elves that crossed his way. She was there already, sitting on a long elegant couch facing away from him, her fine ashen hair neatly braided in a single long weave down her back, incrusted with pearls. A soft smile grew on his face. She was wearing the bracelets, the four of them, he could see them twinkling on her tiny wrist as her hand carefully threaded a silver needle through some sort of embroidery.

And there it was, that tingling in his spirit, the one that seemed to pull him to her and at the same time the one that terrified him, not wanting to make any contact, not wanting her to reach him even if part of his spirit seemed to demand him to let her. Btu could he even handle letting her reach him, would he be able to handle the feeling of another spirit touching his? Or would it make _it_ more painful? It was already hard enough. If he let her in, she would then know for sure….and he did not want her to know. He could feel the deep pounding ache spreading through his left arm, from his fingers to his shoulder, deep, almost through the bone. It had been bothering him again lately…

"You sew?" Her head turned in his direction as he spoke, a wide smile lighting her honey colored eyes, those eyes that were always so open so welcoming and patient. He sat next to her this time, just as he had done so for the past couple of meetings, although not close enough for their bodies to touch.

"No." She replied, her voice always that casual warm tone, her hands extending in his direction to show him the mess of failed stitched on the cloth, once again not seeming bothered at all with her lack of skill. He chuckled lightly, her embroidering was as horrible as her drawing. "My aunt, however, insists that I practice artistic hand skills, when she knows I have none."

"You do have none." He agreed, managing to keep his vice composed, fighting internally between wanting to completely open up to her and at the same time feeling scared of it, needing to keep his distance, part of his guard. And he was once again surprised at just how little his slight detachment seemed to bother her, as if she could anticipate it, read through it, even expect it.

"I know." She laughed, continuing through her stitching with such confidence that anyone would have guessed she was the best at it. And he just watched for a few seconds, staring at her delicate fingers as they messily threaded through the embroidery, her eyes green stroked holding a look of careful concentration, her expression always so soft.

"You are persistent." He commented, watching as she casually kept going through the stiches no matter how ugly they were.

"' _I will see, I will try, I will swim and I will fly.'"_ She recited without even seeming to put much attention to it, and he could not contain a laugh at her words, recognizing the fragment instantly, her eyes suddenly turning up to meet his.

"Are you really reciting _The Little Lost Pebble_ at me?" He raised an eyebrow at her smiling face, finding it both amusing and absurd the fact that she had chosen a fragment from an elfling's bedtime story.

"You know it?" She looked slightly surprised, her stitching momentarily forgotten.

"Which elfling has not heard it?" He found her surprise suddenly amusing. "I used to read it to Tadion, and then to Legolas, and then to-"He stopped there, suddenly realizing what he had been about to say and no longer wanting to complete that sentence. And yet, she did not react, acting as if he had not suddenly stopped talking, as if conversation had merely just kept flowing casually, and he was thankful for it.

"What are you embroidering?" He changed the course of the conversation, not really knowing why but finding it not only easier and easier to talk to her, but wanting to listen to her more and more, as if their short meetings could never provide enough time.

"My dress for tomorrow's wedding." Her voice was once again casual, always warm and open as her eyes turned once again to her horrid stitching and Valar he hoped she was joking.

"Please tell me you are lying?" He laughed again, once again feeling as he could no longer keep his barriers up.

"Who would not want to wear such a _unique_ piece?" She commented, yet the silent smirk in her voice let him know that she was indeed joking. "This is simply some spare cloth I found lying around" She clarified, but something else had suddenly registered in his mind at her words.

"You are attending tomorrows wedding?" He did not know why but the thought of that suddenly made the idea of having to show up for such an event enjoyable. He could not remember the name of the Lord that could be contracting marriage tomorrow evening, but his status as a high ranking lord demanded that the Royal Family attended the ceremony, a thought that until now had seemed overly dreadful.

"Yes." She replied with her perfect soft smile. "He is family of my aunt's but I do not know from where exactly."

He was about to comment when she suddenly let out a quiet hiss of pain, her hands immediately dropping the needle and cloth as her attention flew to her left index finger where the silver needle had suddenly deeply landed.

"Are you all right?" He asked almost immediately, not knowing from where the sudden inexplicable worry had come from.

"I am fine." She waved him off with a laugh, still examining the tip of her finger. "Just pinched my finger."

He let out a single chuckle watching her suddenly looking petrified at her finger as single bright red drop blossomed from the tiny cut. Almost immediately she paled, all color draining from the soft features of her face, her skin suddenly looking whiter than her elegant ivory dress. What had happened? Wha…..Valar she was about to faint. He reacted instantly as soon as he realized what was happening, worry knotting his insides as he suddenly reached out for her, stabilizing her gently by the arms as she swayed on the couch and letting her fall against him as she lost consciousness for a short second.

"Indilene?" He was unable to hide the worry from showing on his voice as she blinked her eyes open a second after, still looking paler than the snow, but at least it did not seem like she would loss consciousness again. And for the first time she looked embarrassed, her honey colored eyes momentarily wide.

She started to push herself to sit straight, but he stopped her, letting her lean against him as he took the edge of his thick cloak and gently pressed to her bleeding finger, stopping the blood from both oozing and showing. And still, that insignificant tiny cut on her finger bothering him beyond what it should. Why did it bother him so much? It was too tiny to even cause her any pain at all, and yet to him it felt as if she had just suffered a mortal wound. It was irrational.

"Really?" He found himself saying with a light laugh as his eyes mocked her honey colored ones. "You faint at the sight of blood?" He could feel the warms of her delicate body leaning against him, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to fully wrap his arms around her and press her closer, but he did not move. He had never been this close to her, had not even touched her since that night at the pond. She tried to glare at him, but her smile broke any sort of threatening effect it might have had.

"Only at _my_ blood." She clarified, trying to defend herself but he only found it more amusing, and still he was carefully to keep gently covering her finger with his cloak. "I would be completely fine at seeing your blood."

He could not contain a laugh at her words, knowing what she had been trying to say yet laughing as she remained completely oblivious at the way in which she had phrased it.

"That makes me feel a lot better. At least I now know you will be _completely fine_ watching me bleed." He mocked her, still feeling somewhat worried at her lingering pallor.

"That is not what I- "

"I know what you meant." He told her softly, still laughing at it. "Are you all right now?"

"Yes, I am fine." She reassured him, moving to sit up straight once more and he helped her. "Sorry about this."

He waved off her apology, checking instead with a quick look at her finger, lifting the cloak slightly only to find it still bleeding. But of course fingers always bled a lot.

"Do not look at it." He instructed her gently as her let go of it momentarily, rising to his feet and quickly making his way to a set of elegantly carved cabinets that sat at the back of the terrace, against the wall. He knew exactly where to look, quickly opening the top left drawer and pulling out a set of thin bandages and cotton, as well as a bottle with healing salve on it to clean the tiny wound.

He returned to sit next to her, smiling when he found that she had kept her eyes closed the entire time.

"Look away." He added gently taking her hand and carefully wiping off the blood first before dipping the cotton on the healing salve, dabbing it over the tiny cut. Did the salve sting? Was he hurting her? "Does it hurt?"

"No." She replied with a chuckle, shaking her head as she kept facing the other way, her eyes now once more open yet never looking down at her hand. He finished cleaning the cut quickly, softly wrapping a small piece of bandage around it so that any more blood that came out would remain invisible. It looked funny to see such a tiny cut with such a bandage.

Outside the sun had finally set, the night sky now a darken mantle where the Moon could barely be seen obscured by thick clouds. It might rain again soon. Or snow even, judging by the cold.

"Am I going to bleed out?" She asked, her voice once again that gentle open tone, so casual, so easy, making him smile in return as he shook his head.

"With such a massive wound you might." It was her turn to laugh now, as he tied the last of the bandage. "You can look now."

And she did, almost immediately turning her eyes to look at the bandage that now covered her finger. "Thank you."

He waved it off once more, standing up to return the rest of the bandages and healing salve to their respect drawer before returning to sit next to her, once again their bodies not touching.

"I believe I am done with my stitching." She set the cloth she had been working on aside, not seeming in the least saddened about the prospect of not continuing it.

"You will not finish it?" He added in return, once again fighting that sudden inexplicable urge to hold her close once more, needing to wrap his arms around her yet needing to still keep a safe distance, fighting the longing of his stirring spirit yet terrified of letting her in, terrified of anything coming in contact with his spirit once more, no matter how harmless it might be.

"I cannot finish it now." The sound of her laughter, like a gush of fresh summer breeze brought him back from his thoughts. "I have been wounded." She concluded exaggeratedly, showing off her newly bandaged finger. "This hand is no longer able to hold the cloth while I stitch."

"Was there supposed to be figure in there? Or was it merely a mess of stitches?" He questioned, his voice once again his usual calm soft tone yet not being able to fight back a smile as his eyes once again fell on the utter chaos of stitching on the cloth, the light blue threat following what seemed to be _some_ sort of pattern but seeming to have failed miserably.

"It is _obviously_ a bluebird." She commented, once again not looking at all embarrassed at her horrid attempt of embroidery.

"Ah, I see it now." He lied now he was starting to doubt if she had ever _seen_ a bluebird. He guessed he could see something what somewhat resembled a wing if he turned his head slightly…or was that a tail? No, a head, that was definitely the head. Then the wings were coming out from the head? Those could not be wings…

"You do not see it, Arahaelon." She used his name, but this time he gladly accepted it, liking how it sounded in her voice. Yet it was once again strange, listening to anyone calling him casually by his given name. She had always been so careful with it too, as she could easily tell he was not yet to it, but how could she so easily read these things when nobody else could? Why was he opening up to her so easily.

"I might if you finish it." He insisted, not wanting her to leave just yet. "I will hold it for you." He reached out for the discarded cloth and moved to crouch at the floor by her knees, from where he could hold up the stretched cloth right above her lap. If Tadion ever saw him now….

"I can hold it by myself." She laughed at him, attempting to take the cloth frim his hands but he did not let her. He had reached that point again, and he could not explain how, the point where he did not care how ridiculous he looked, just as how ridiculous he must have looked after fallen in the pond some nights ago, where all he cared about was the smile on her face, the sound of her laugh, where his barriers had been long ago forgotten.

"You stitch." He replied, watching once again with fascination as she took the silver needle in her right hand with another laugh, proceeding to carefully thread it through the cloth he now held carefully stretched in front of her.

"Do not poke me with that." He warned once as the needle came dangerously close to one of his fingers in another of her messy stitches, and she threw him another fake glare.

"You have nothing to worry about." She muttered, trying to hide her mocking smile. "I will not faint if you bleed."

"I still would prefer not to bleed at all."

"I will not pinch you." She reassured him, yet once or twice more the needle came again dangerously close to his fingers. And she really was doing a horrid job with the stitches, even though she was clearly trying not to. And no matter how many more stitches she managed to make, he still could not see the supposed bluebird.

"You are doing a terrible job." He laughed again, he had laughed so much that night.

"There is no need to remind me." She was quick to reply, although she did not seem offended by his words in the slightest, her own eyes skeptically glancing at the figure as she stitched, making it seem that she too had lost sight of any trace of a bluebird that had might at some point appeared in the embroidery.

"I am _not_ taking this back to my aunt." She shook her head, her long ashen braid swaying lightly by her back, her eyes now studying the finally finished 'bluebird'.

"Why not?" Another laugh from his part. She glared at him once more, her eyes almost telling him to simply look at the horrid mess of embroidery to understand why she would not want to take it back to her aunt. "Then what will you do with it?"

She shrugged in reply not seeming too interested in whatever happened to the piece of cloth, and he found himself asking before he could even stop himself, before he could even understand why he was asking.

"May I keep it?" That seemed to surprise her as much as it did him, her delicate eyebrows rising on her forehead.

"Are you _sure_ you want _this_?" She asked smiling at him as questioning his sanity. But he was questioning it too…he had to be insane for wanting to ever keep this messy and horrible embroidery.

"Yes." He confirmed, and she let out another one of those quiet laughs that felt warmer than the softest summer breeze. "Add my name?"

"You do know you will barely be able to read it if I stitch in your name?" She warned him but he merely shrugged in response, not caring if his name came out looking as unreadable as the bluebird. She simply smiled again, picking up the needle once more.

"Do you need me to spell it?" He mocked and she glared at him once more.

"I know how to spell your name. What I do need help with is knowing if you would be wanting 'Arahaelon', or perhaps 'Crown Prince Arahaelon?', or should I go for 'His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arahaelon'?" She mocked him in return, but he was unable to glare at her.

"The last one does not fit, and you would be missing the ' _of the Greenwood'_ at the end." He pointed out at the limited space on the cloth and she laughed in exasperation at his words. "Just Arahaelon is fine."

"All right." She nodded, starting to stitch in the clumsy letters, all of them nearly as unreadable as the bluebird. At first he could not make out the letters, and once he did it was already too late.

"Did you _really_ embroidered 'Just Arahaelon'?" He raised an eyebrow, almost too amused yet incredulous at what he was seeing. He let his eyes sweep through the embroidery once more only to confirm that it indeed read 'Just Arahaelon' in there.

"It is what you said." She mocked him once more, yet he only found himself shaking his head, once again listening to the sweet melody of her laugh, the bright streak of her warm ever welcoming, ever open hazel eyes. He wanted to hold her close once more wanted to wrap his arms around her delicate frame….wanted to find out what it felt to finally press his lips to that smile. But what was he thinking?

Instead he watched her in silence as she put the needle away in the small box full of more needles and thread that had been lying forgotten on a small side table. He kept the cloth in his hands, rising from his crouching position at the floor and returning to sit down next to her on the couch. His eyes fell down to her wrists once more, where the four bracelets twinkled brightly against her pale skin. They looked gorgeous on her.

And he did not know what he was doing, he did not know why he was doing it, the pull suddenly stronger than him, making him slowly lean in closer to her, closer and closer, looking into those welcoming honey eyes that never once wavered, those soft cheeks, her small nose. He could feel her breath on his face their foreheads nearly touching. She had frozen in her spot, not moving, yet not pulling away, and he could feel his lips softly brushing hers once more, lingering for a moment until he finally closed the gap, tasting her lips with his. And she was kissing him back, gently, one of his hands moving to rest lightly over the soft skin of her cheek. and everything else seemed to stop, everything else suddenly seeming so insignificant, all the meetings, the reports, the patrols, all of that stopped mattering any longer. He wanted to stop time, to never have to leave her side, not even caring any longer about how irrational it all sounded, he simply wanted to stay here in this terrace with her for all eternity, watching her begrudgingly embroidering horrible figures that he would later get to keep.

And there it was again, the undeniable pull in his spirit, longing to reach for hers, wanting to slip, slipping, and he could almost fell her reaching him, knowing that whether he wanted it or not their spirits would bond, it was there, it was starting, she would reach him…she would reach _it._ It would be impossible to miss, the first thing to notice once she finally reached him, that wound…no, that _void_ , that touched of death that he still fought hard to ignore. And he pulled away from the kiss, quickly sealing himself away once more, not letting her spirit reach him, blocking her, letting the barriers high once more.

She did not say anything. Did not even move. Yet he could feel the sorrow concealed in the depth of her honey colored eyes, the hurt at his actions, and he knew she could tell he had purposely blocked her out. He did not know which felt more painful…the look on her eyes or the fear of her finally reaching his spirit, the terror of finding out whether or not he could handle it, whether the stirring that her reaching him would cause in his spirit would make him even more aware of the void left there, bringing it once more to the surface, after he had fought so much to ignore how consuming it felt, it never stopped, it never went away, he needed to ignore it, needed to push it back, he could not handle it resurfacing, and it was, already it was….And still she looked so hurt now.

He offered her what tried to be a smile, not finding his voice to say anything, quickly rising to his feet and walking out of the terrace, the remembered pain and fear winning over that part of him that wanted nothing more than to turn back on his heels and kiss her once, twice, thrice more. But he was already making his way through the long endless hallways, trying to push back and ignore that feeling that had once again reappeared at the stirring of his spirit, at the closeness of hers touching his. It was a fight he always lost, whenever these feelings returned, and he could already feel the ache in his arm becoming all the more painful. He could already feel it vividly once more, that void there where so much of him once resided, the rest of his spirit suddenly once more aware of that missing fragment pulling and pushing, what was left of his powers trying to forcefully reconnect with the part that was lost, it felt horrible, overwhelming, destroying, and he forced himself to walk faster heading to only place he could think about at the moment, fighting the urge to claw at his chest as that horrid feeling, that emptiness materialized once more.

He opened the door without knocking, thankful to find out that his sister had not yet gone down to dinner and was still in her bedchambers. Her smiling aquamarine eyes turned to look at him, the corners of her mouth dropping immediately as she saw his face. She knew why he was there. He always came to her, every time he lost the fight, every time it all returned. He knew that if he went to his father he would worry too much, and he already had many things to worry about.

"Ar?" Lossenel voice betrayed her own worry, but he could not find his voice to speak so he merely shook his head, trying to control the shaking of his hands, to push back the pain that was now tearing through the bone of his left arm and burning through the handprint left on his skin. And it would have helped to think that it was merely remembered pain, but it was not, it was real pain, his arm had been the point where the connection had happened, and the pain would return and spread every time that horrible void, that dead part of his spirit made itself known once more.

He simply walked to where she sat crossed legged at the center of bed, her hands quickly brushing away the few books that had been laying open over the covers to make room for him, and he lowered himself to sit next to her, trying to take calming even breaths.

"It will go away." His sister was quick to say as he closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore what was left of his now unstable energy as it coursed through him like electric shocks, trying to reach that empty part him, only managing to make the void all the more painful all the more evident. He knew what she meant, this part will go away, he will eventually once again be able to push it back and ignore it, although such a thing most of the time took hours. But truly it would _never_ go away. Most days it was easier to ignore, and then, occasionally, there days when this happened.

"I will inform Ada not to expect us at dinner." She added once more, and even though he felt slightly guilty that he was preventing his sister to attend dinner with the rest of the family he was glad for her company now, watching her leaving the room, only to find her returning seconds after. He already knew his father would be coming to check on him once dinner was over, he would immediately know the reason Lossenel and him had skipped.

Yet he kept his eyes shut, felling the mattress sink when Lossenel returned to sit next to him, one of his hands finally flying to grasp at his tunic by his chest, not begin able to keep still any longer, as if almost feeling he could physically grasp that void, needing to take it away, to claw it out of him, his left arm straining.

"It will be all right, Ar." Lossenel's gentle voice murmured, one of her tender hands sliding comfortingly down his hair while the other grasped at his hand and he squeezed it, not letting go of it, thankful more than anything for his sister's company right now. She could not really help him, but not being alone helped somewhat. "Just breathe. It will be all right."

He nodded in silence, not opening his eyes, not able to speak, trying to maintain his breathing calmed, fighting against the despair that the consuming void brought with it, against the overwhelming pulling of the rest of the now unstable energy in his spirit that was left like unconnected shards of a broken vase. It was too much, and it took all of his concentration to simply take even deep breaths, to keep his hands from shaking too much, from preventing the hand griping at his tunic by his chest from clawing at his skin in despair to get rid of this consuming emptiness and unstable shards. No. He could not let Indilene in. He could not let her spirit reach his, not yet. He would not be able to handle it, if she reached that void, if she touched, if it somehow made it all the more present than it already was, if it resurfaced more strongly than it was currently doing he would go mad. He could not handle it, it would be too much. He could not let her in…and he did not want her to ever see him like this.

So here is chapter 5! I hope you enjoy it, it was a little tricky to write haha but I hope I came through as I expected it.

Again, thank you thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the previous chapter! This chapter is also for all of you and I hope it can bring a little more sunshine to your day, replies to your reviews are on the way!: reddoggie, Amsim, mMy, Teddy2104 and Yaulewen!

Love,

Elena


	6. Time

"Would you please stand straight, my lady?" the seamstress' gentle voice brought her back from her wandering thoughts, quickly apologizing before standing perfectly straight once more, earning a warning glance from her aunt.

Instead, she focused her attention on the long mirror standing in front of her, trying her best to remain unmoving upon the small stool where she had been asked to stand. The dress was beautiful, probably the most exquisite dress he had ever worn. The light vaporous fabric was in the palest of blues, as soft as the morning sky. Somehow the fabric had been dyed to perfection, turning a dark shade of night blue as it met her feet, where the talented seamstress was currently measuring the hem. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. And yet, as if the exquisitely gorgeous fabric was not enough, the detailing of the embroidery in silver and sapphires were simply otherworldly. Delicate silver strings comprised the sleeves of the dress, intertwining around her thin bare arms all the way down to her wrists, and falling in loose waves down her back, where it intertwined with sapphires and pearls. Valar, she did not ever want to take this dress off.

"Oh, Faraine, you have certainly outdone yourself this time." She heard her aunt sigh from the small round table where she had been joining her husband in a game of tiles for the most part of the afternoon. "It is beautiful."

The fair seamstress simply nodded her head at the compliment, standing up straight once more, gentle morning blue eyes smiling almost shyly at her aunt's words. Yet, she knew there was hardly any compliment the seamstress had not heard, after all her dresses were the most wanted across the realm, as she personally sewed even the Princess' dresses.

"You can change now, my lady." Faraine spoke with a kind smile, nodding her head in her direction, indicating that her job was done, and, Eru, she was quick to hop off the stool. She loved the dress, but she hated the fittings. Still she did not went to change right away, standing a few more minutes in front of the mirror, admiring the stunning dress.

"Thank you so much, Faraine." Her aunt had stood up from the chair and made her way over to the seamstress, but the latter only waved her hand politely, always too poised and humbled to the compliments paid to her.

"The Lady will look beautiful for the Solstice Celebration." And instead Faraine would compliment her, even though it would be due to her work that she would indeed look beautiful. And still she almost wanted to roll her eyes at the mention of the Feast. It had been her intention to wear her favorite violet dress for the occasion but her aunt had insisted that it was time she got a new dress, especially since this would be her first Winter Solstice celebration back in Mirkwood in long years.

"Nana, could you help me change?" She asked in a low voice, her honey colored eyes meeting her aunt's storm grey ones, out of the corner of her eye noticing as Faraine calmly started to pack all of her supplies back into a small bag she had brought with her.

"Of course, little flower." She felt the gentle touch of delicate fingers on her back, and she joined her aunt in the slow walk back inside her own bedchambers. Still she could not help but smile at the warmth of the ever present term of endearment. It seemed as if no matter how old she got, her aunt would ever call her that.

"Do not take too long, _meleth_ , it is your turn already." Her uncle's teasing voice echoed from his spot at the rounded table, one of his hands motioning to the many tiles that still lay perfectly arranged over the smooth surface, his soft blue eyes smiling at them as if already predicting that they would take longer than anticipated. They always did.

She heard the door of the bedchamber clicked close in a deaf sound, but she did not turn, letting her eyes absently scan over her room for long moments as she felt her aunt's careful hands slowly unfastening the many tiny pearl buttons down the back of her dress, careful not to pull at the intricate patterns of the silver strings.

The golden shades of the afternoon sun washed peacefully over the chamber, reflecting in sparkles over the polished marble tiles of the floor. Their chambers were not too high up in the Palace, and the upper branches of a couple of trees reached inside her balcony, shading it with their ever green leaves.

"You look beautiful, Indi." Her aunt's soft voice murmured from behind her, and she turned her head in time to meet that loving motherly smile that met her eyes. She smiled in return, looking at her aunt's perfectly delicate features, her pale flawless skin and her long silken ebony hair. They shared none of their features. Her mother had been her uncle's only sister, and thus it was only her uncle she resembled somewhat, if only in the same shade of ashen hair. And yet, ever beyond the difference in looks, her aunt was her Nana, had been for as long as she could remember, and she knew that to her aunt and uncle, she was their daughter.

"The dress _is_ gorgeous." She admitted, managing a light laugh from her aunt for during the past two weeks she had done mothing but complain that another dress was not necessary when she had her favorite violet one that she intended to wear.

"I could not let my daughter walk into the King's Halls in an overly used dress for Winter Solstice." Her aunt was teasing her now, she could hear it in her voice as she helped her out of the dress and absently picked a pale rose casual dress from the wardrobe for her to change into. " _Especially_ When I know there is a _mysterious ellon_ sending _mysterious bracelets_. And judging by the splendor of those bracelets I can be certain he will most definitely be at the Winter Solstice, will he not? "

Valar she was sure she had not been able to hide her sudden shocked expression, feeling her own eyes widen and her cheeks burning at her aunt's teasing words.

"Nana!" Was all she could even think of saying, letting out an incredulous nervous laugh. Oh, Iluvatar, if her aunt went about trying to figure out who this ellon was…..More so, if she found out….Nobody in the Palace knew of her and the Crown Prince's short meetings for the past weeks, in fact she was not even sure if he was courting her at all. Everything was so very confusing, and at the same time so nerve-wracking, making her stomach flutter in nerves and her heart soar at the mere sound of his voice. Yet, there had been nothing apart from her stirring spirit to indicate anything happening between the two….except that kiss….

"You have not taken those four bracelets off since the moment they arrived anonymously." Her aunt pointed out, another light laugh escaping her lips in a chorus of bells at her daughter's mortified expression. "Will you tell me the name of the ellon courting you?"

"I…." She started, suddenly at a loss of words, inexplicably feeling her stomach sinking once more. Was Arahaelon courting her? Not officially at least….and after that kiss….well she no longer knew what to expect or think anymore. "I am not even sure I am being courted at all."

"Ah, so he is difficult to read." Her aunt was quick correctly conclude once more, gracefully lowering herself to sit at the edge of the large bed, her delicate hands smoothing over the pale blue bedcovers playfully. She could feel her aunt's grey eyes looking at hers, gentle orbs seeming to swallow her in that soft storm of silver. Those eyes could read deep into every single one of her expression, down to her very soul, knew her beyond what anyone else did, like only a mother knows her child.

And still she almost wanted to laugh. Difficult to read was an understatement. And yet, the more time she spent with him the more she learned that although ever unpredictable, he was not entirely unreadable. It was as if he spoke through his silence, and she had learned to read small cues that she was sure most if not all of the other elves missed, like what it meant when he inclined his head one way versus the other, the way his posture almost imperceptibly tensed or relaxed depending on the situation, even the almost unnoticeable difference in his smile when it did reach his bright emerald eyes or when it was a well-practiced gesture, or how he would gracefully fold his hands over his lap when stressed.

"He is." Was all she said, not willing to give any details on anything. Still there was no use in denying her aunt that there was indeed an ellon that attracted her attention. Valar, he seemed to have more and more of her attention every day.

"Will you not tell me his name?" Her aunt continued to smile teasingly as she joined her at the edge of the bed, having to brush some books aside to make space.

"No. I am not even sure what he wants, nana." She said between chuckles, even though of her did not completely feel like laughing, still aching from what had occurred only two nights ago.

"Have I seen him before?" Her aunt seemed too curious about it, yet did not press for the name, but this question did make her laugh this time. If only they knew….

"Yes." She replied once more with a single word, watching as her aunt looked at her for a long moment through those gentle grey eyes before her gaze shifted to the many books lying messily over the bed, all conversation about the _mysterious ellon_ seemingly forgotten.

"Indilene!" She partially scolded with a defeated shake of her head, although more than angry she seemed to be surrendering herself to a battle that she knew would forever be lost. "How many times do I need to tell you that your bed is not the place for your books?"

"They no longer fit in the bookshelf." She added, quickly picking up the books and moving them over to the small table placed to one corner of the room, where a bunch of music sheets were lying, marking where she had been scribbling just before the seamstress arrived.

And yet her aunt shook her head once more with a light chuckle. "I will have to ask you Ada to have another one made." She spoke quietly as she rose from the bed, picking the exquisite dress with her. "Come, Faraine and your father are waiting for us."

And with that she followed her aunt out of the bedchamber and back into the ample Sitting Room. Faraine was indeed still waiting for them patiently on one corner of the room, all her things now perfectly packed. She gracefully accepted the dress back from her aunt, and retired with another graceful bow of her, smiling that characteristic kind and beautiful smile. They would have to go pick up the finished dress in some days.

"I thought the two of you would never return." Her uncle's voice filled the room as they joined him at the round table placed to one side of the room, his deep blue eyes looking at them with a hidden exasperated smirk. "It has been your turn for a while, Celairil."

She absently watched as her aunt's attention went back to the sets of tiles neatly placed upside down over the table, taking her time to stare at them before picking two and turning them over, revealing the dreamily painted pictures of a forest in one and the Moon and stars in the other, eliciting a victorious laugh from her uncle.

"You had already turned that one." He pointed out as her aunt turned the two un-matching tiles back around with an innocent glare to her husband.

"Fine, you go, _meleth_." Her aunt muttered, not even looking as her husband picked two tiles of his own, her attention focused on pouring herself a cup of tea from the ceramic kettle placed in the center of the table.

"Ah, found it." Her uncle's tenor voice echoed once more, his smile widening as the two tiles he flipped contained the same heavenly painting of the Moon and stars, taking them both in his hands and placing them aside, leaving the set over the table two tiles short.

"You always win this game, Ada." She laughed, shaking her head lightly as she too poured herself a cup of tea, watching in mirth at her uncle's overly satisfied expression. Whoever looked upon him would guess him to be an elfling playing with a brand new toy. He was enjoying this game too much.

"He does not _always_ win." Her aunt's grey eyes glared at her husband once more, taking a silent sip from the hot drink before placing it deafly back upon the table, not looking too please at the rate at which she was losing.

"I have never seen him loose." She added, letting her eyes fall once more over the many square tiles placed face down over the table. She was very familiar with the game, it was a common game present at feasts such as the Spring Feast or even at times in the Winter Solstice over some of the tables, where the elves would sit and talk over wine while enjoying the game.

"Oh, I have." Something in her aunt's voice mirrored the new mischievous sparkle in her stormy eyes as she once again turned to glance at her husband, the latter seeming to throw her a warning glare. "And _spectacularly._ "

"You lost?" It was her turn to laugh again, finding it hard to believe her aunt's words. Never had she seen her uncle lose this game to _anyone_. Only when he had purposely let her win as an elfling. "Who defeated you? When?"

"Defeat?" Her aunt continued, smiling all the more teasingly at her husband. "Oh, no, my daughter, that was not defeat…..that was a slaughter."

"Do tell the story." She spoke through her smiling lips, bringing the steaming cup to her mouth and taking a long sip of her honeyed tea. "Who were you playing against?"

"A very smart elf." Her uncle's voice was drowned as her aunt added almost at the same time "an elfling of five years of age."

"An elfling?" Valar, this story was only getting better. How had she never heard of it before? Of five years of age? That did not seem possible. That was merely a little more than a toddler.

"Not _any_ elfling." Her uncle continued calmly, a smile drawing on his handsome face as he seemed to be recalling the incident. "It was His Highness, the Crown Prince."

"When?" Was all she managed to say, suddenly wanting to hear the story even more than before, longing to hear anything that her uncle could tell her from when Arahaelon had been an elfling.

"Winter Solstice, many years ago." Her uncle started narrating, oblivious to the way her heart fluttered at the simple mention of the Crown Prince, and she listened, not missing a single word that was said. "Even before the Princess Lossenel was born. It was during those hours after dinner and before the exchange of gifts. There were very few elflings that time so I guess the young Prince was somewhat bored, standing next to Her Majesty the Queen gripping at her hand as she talked with a couple of Ladies. I do have to say that he looked adorable dressed up in little robes and a silver circlet that seemed to be bothering him, as he kept tugging at it. I had been sitting at that same table with you father and we had been immersed in the game for some long minutes by then. Yet the little Prince's curious eyes kept looking in our direction, still seeming too shy to leave his mother's side, almost partially hiding behind her. So after a while I asked His Highness if he would like to play, and you should have seen the way those innocent eyes lit up with excitement. Still it took some encouraging from the Queen for him to finally approach me, and I had to physically lift him onto a chair his little feel dangling from the edge." Her uncle continued the tale, seeming to enjoy recalling it. And she wished he could see the picture of a small Crown Prince, but every time she tired she could only see those piercing, impenetrable emerald eyes, always wise, seeming to see beyond what she could.

"It was very strange in truth. The little Prince seemed shy, even his little excited giggles were quiet and timid, but the whole time he looked at me straight in the eyes. He asked what the game was so I explained it to him. I said there were eighty square tiles laid over the table consisting of forty pictures each duplicated, so that each picture had a perfect twin. I told him to look at the pictures before turning all the tiles upside down. I was not sure if he was understanding the game so I kept explaining as simply and clearly as I could. I told him that we would take turns to flip the tiles two at a time, looking to find the pictures that matched. All this time he had remained perfectly quiet, and not sure if he was really understanding the game or not, I went ahead first and turned two tiles." She wished more that she could be seeing these images instead of listening to the tale, and still she could hear that quiet laugh, she already knew that sound, never loud, never too carefree, almost like a quiet wisp of summer air, and she wondered at how many elves had ever heard that gentle sound those few times his smiles reached his eyes.

"Since it was the first turn, the tiles did not match so I explained that to him and said that I would turn them back around and it would be his turn to pick, but he merely laughed that quiet round of giggles once more, looking at me with that mirthful childish expression as if I had been teasing him. And then he said 'No, do it right.' Not knowing what he was talking about I explained to him that the picture did not match so I had lost my turn, but he laughed that shy laughter once more, shaking his little head and insisted 'We just saw all the tiles. Do it right.' I still did not know what he meant by 'do it right' so I asked if he wanted me to go again, thinking that maybe he needed to further understand the game, after all he was merely a little more than a toddler. He nodded his head in fascination once more so I chose two more tiles to flip, but when the pictures once again did not match the Prince just giggled once more and kept insisting for me to 'do it right'."

"This time I suggested that he tried, and he looked at me for along moment before asking, 'I have to flip the pictures that match?' to which I answered that if he thought he knew which ones matched he should flip them. And then, I do not even remember what I thought at that moment, but I recall that he had to kneel on the chair to be able to reach the farthest tiles, and he started to flip them all one by one, from the top left corner in order all the way down. He was not trying to find matching pictures, he merely flipped them all. And then I was sure that he had not understood the game, so I explained to him that he should flip only two at a time, and that those two should try to match. And he looked at me more confused than before, saying 'But I know they all match'." She did laugh then, trying hard to imagine her ever composed uncle looking incredibly puzzled in the presence of an elfling, even if such elfling had indeed been his future King.

" I have to admit that I myself had never felt more confused but I dismissed it, as an elfling's mind is always confusing to try to understand. So instead, I flipped all tiles upside down again, and encouraged him to try again, to pick only two tiles and try to make them match. And once again he looked at me for a long silent moment before asking 'Any two that match?'. I confirmed that yes, any two that he thought would match, and saw his eyes stare at the collection of tiles for a long silent moment, looking at the back of the tiles one by one before he suddenly picked two, flipping them over. And I was somewhat surprised that the pictured did indeed match. His Highness, on the other hand, did not seem in the least surprised, as if had _known_ the tiles he picked would match. Still I simply dismissed it as luck. After all there were eighty tiles over the table, _eighty_. There was no possible way he could have remembered where the tiles were, especially out of eighty. He asked what to do next, so I told him that since the tiles matched he should keep those and flip two more. And he did, and once again they matched. I told him to keep going, and every single pair he flipped matched, and not once did he seemed surprised. He did _know_ where all the pictures were. He had only looked at them for short seconds before I flipped them but that had been enough. He cleared the board in single turn, and after he had flipped the last matching pair, his excited green eyes turned to look at me expectantly as asked 'Now what happens?'. And it was then that I realized that he had not even understood that the game had just ended. He believed it was merely starting, this task seeming too easy for him to be all the game was. And then I understood what he had meant when he insisted that I 'do it right' that 'I had just looked at them'. He had thought I had picked the wrong tiles purposefully, as he was too young to begin to understand that I could not see the tiles in my head the way he did, that I could not perfectly remember their placement."

It was her aunt's light laughter that pulled her mind back from the imagined images she had been trying to create as she followed the tale, her eyes turning to find her aunt smiling widely at her husband. And still, she did not find herself surprised at all at the tale, somehow knowing that he would have indeed known where every single tile was, once again seeing those impenetrable emerald eyes that seemed to miss nothing in his surroundings flashing inside her mind.

"What happened then?" She asked, too curious to let the late die so quickly, but her uncle merely shrugged in response, absently continuing the game as he answered her.

"It was time for the exchange of gifts. And I believe he received a beautiful toy bow that made him lose all interest in playing with anything but his new bow." Her uncle spoke as her aunt took her turn in turning two more tiles, once again revealing mismatched pictures.

"It is the fourth time you turn that same tile of the forest, Celairil." Her uncle complained quietly, placing a quick kiss on his wife's cheek, but the latter only glared at him once more, even though the living smile on her face was enough to contradict her action.

"Because, my dear, if it has escaped your notice, I am attempting to find the _other_ forest." She heard her aunt explaining, but her attention had turned instead to the reddening rays of the setting sun as they filtered and roamed through the ceiling tall crystal windows framing the ample room.

And she stood up from the table, her heart beating in anticipation as that time of the day that she had found herself waiting for in increased anticipation every day finally arrived. She excused herself quietly, but her aunt and uncle only smiled at her with a short nod of their heads, as if they too had grown accustomed to her afternoon walks through the gardens. And it was all she could to walk calmly back to her chambers and grab a thick winter cloak, not even paying attention to the color, before she was already outside in long labyrinth of hallways.

And yet, this afternoon everything seemed so different, her heart beating forcefully inside her chest and at the same time sinking in nerves. No matter how much she tried to force it away of her thoughts, her mind could not stop thinking about that moment in the terraces only two nights ago, causing her hear to both soar and sink, to swell and contract. It had been one of those rare nights where his barriers had tumble down, it had once again been strange yet refreshing, listening to him laugh freely. For the first time since that night at the pond she had seen Arahaelon, and not the Crown Prince, she had seen those melted emerald eyes opening up like an endless forest, so deep she could have fallen and drown in them, unguarded, unsealed. And she could still feel his warm breath as is brushed her face, so close to her, his lips meeting hers.

But it had taken only one second, one slip from her part, feeling as her spirit was pulled to his one his lips met hers, feeling his spirit so close to hers, almost pulling too, and she had reached for him. And that had been all it took. She should have guessed his reaction, and part of her did, part of her knew he would pull away, and yet it sill ha hurt. But what hurt her most, what made her heart ache and constrict painfully inside her chest was not his reaction, was not the way his barriers had suddenly been back up, she had almost expected as much. No. It was what she had felt in that fragment of a second in which their spirits had brushed, right before he pushed her away.

It had been too short of a time, less than a second, less than a heartbeat, but it had been enough. The moment her spirit brushed against his, she had felt it, so strong that she had not even needed to fully reach his spirit to know it was there, a wound, even though she could not really know what it was. She did not need him to tell her why he had pulled away, the wound speaking louder than any words could, even if she was not sure whether or not he even knew she had felt it. And yet she had also felt something else in his spirit, almost overshadowed but not entirely by the wound, a power like no other she had ever felt before, almost forgotten, or being pushed back. She had known it would take time and it would be hard for him to finally open up t her and let her stirring spirit finally reach his But now….after she had felt that wound…she wondered if he would _ever_ let her reach him at all. And it was that which hurt the most.

Btu why did she care so much? Why did her spirit continue to gravitate towards his every time she was in her presence? Why did she keep longing more and more and more for the afternoon to finally come, to meet him in the gardens or in the terraces even if for some short minutes?

Her feet slowly trailed over the ever green grass, not even noticing what was on her path as she continued to make her way from garden to garden. The wind was unusually strong, brushing her forcefully and pulling at her long cloak this way and that, making her have to grip it tightly around her as she walked, her hair slapping her cheeks.

She had not spoken to him after that night. Had only seen him at the wedding ceremony the previous night, but only from afar, and he had looked every inch the regal Crown Prince he was, dressed in long silver robes and wearing the formal silver circlet. And yet, only some minutes into the wedding celebration, almost right after the ceremony, she had spotted a royal guard making his way to the King, whispering something lowly. And the next she knew the King and Crown Prince were retiring, most probably for some sort of urgent matter. Prince Tadion and Princess Lossenel had stayed to enjoy the celebration, and many a Lady had been almost standing in line for a change to dance with the handsome Prince.

She felt her heart drop somewhat as she reached the garden she had bene looking for, the mirror surface of the still pond reflecting in bright red at the dying sun. He was not there. But this time she could not tell if it would be a matter of waiting. This time she was not even sure if he would come. Nonetheless she would wait, lowering herself to sit on her usual spot, the fine cushioned seat by the long chaise, separated from it by a small table. She wished she had brought something to do.

But if there was anything she had was patience. She had always had an almost endless amount of patience. Had never really minded waiting for long periods of time, while that same amount of waiting would seem to drive her aunt into madness. Her thoughts would simply fly freely, and she would lose herself into her own little world nobody else could reach. She would look at the water lilies, imagining what they would sound like if they had voices of their own, would they sing? Could they tell her stories of all the elves they had witnessed sitting like she was in this very same garden? And she would imagine melodies, making up one for them.

She did not know how long she waited. Two hours? Three? Perhaps even more. The sky had long ago turned deep shade of blue, the half-moon shining partially concealed behind heavy grey clouds. The heavy wind had not let up, but somehow she enjoyed the ice cold feeling of it on her face, watching as the hundreds of water lilies on the pond were pulled so hard she feared the wind would snatch them up and send them flying around. Perhaps it could send her flying to.

She was about to stand up, finally surrendering her waiting, when the barely audible sound of light footsteps made her head turn up. He came. She watching him in silence as he approached, not yet knowing how much distance he would require that night. He was wearing a thick dark blue winter cloak, the color contrasting beautifully with his pale skin and his still damp silvery hair. It had been left unbraided, seeming to still be drying, as if he just only stepped out of a bath. And she did not miss the small cut and purple bruise present on his forehead, seeming to be healing already. So he must have been outside the Palace then, probably leading a patrol.

He walked silently to her side, sitting as he always did in the long chaise, his face always that handsome perfectly serene expression, as if nothing could ever agitate him, could ever make him react in any way. He did not say anything as his eyes turned to catch hers, and she once again felt the overpowering weight of those wise and endless emerald eyes, and yet even though still unreadable, as if she would never really catch up to what he was really thinking to what he was really looking at, they were not entirely sealed. He looked so tall, so regal, so powerful.

And then, gracefully he pulled something out of his cloak, a beautifully carved wooden box, pulling off the lid and extending it in her direction, offering her one of those small smiles that only partially reached his eyes. She peaked inside the box, only to find an assortment of the most deliciously looking chocolate covered strawberries neatly placed inside.

"What is this?" She asked as she took one of the offered strawberries out, watching him do the same after her. She recognized where these strawberries were from, and it was a place some miles away, on higher ground into the forest, where they grew the best quality. And they were expensive too.

"It was a gift." Was all he offered as an explanation, not seeming too interested in that. Btu then again, him and the King must be used to receiving all sorts of gifts like these this close to the Winter Solstice. And still he had chosen to share them with her.

"How was the wedding celebration?" He seemed more talkative than she had expected that night, even though he remained sitting at a comfortable distance from her. And yet his eyes still remained impenetrable, partially guarded. He was not letting her in completely tonight. And she wondered if he would even mention what had happened two nights ago. And yet, even if he did not, she would enjoy his company, feeling that warmth spread through her spirit even if only at his presence. She would wait until he was comfortable enough discussing what he wanted to. She would let him lead the pace. He had come. He had blocked her spirit from reaching his, but he was not pushing her away entirely. It always like this, probing and trying, one step forward and two steps back.

"Magnificent" She replied with a smile, once again letting him see into her honey colored eyes and into her very soul, never having any trouble in letting all of her thoughts and emotions freely visible. "It was unfortunate that you had to retire. The dancing was delightful, My Lord."

She used a more formal address once more, although not precisely his title, not sure yet whether or not he would be entirely comfortable with her using his given name that moment, trying to read what kind of night this would. And yet that powerful emerald gaze turned to meet hers once more, always impossible to read, endless yet unreachable, feeling as he could easily access every single one of his thoughts.

"You keep calling me that." He pointed out, his voice that perfectly serene silent sound, as if he could command even nature with the sole power of his gentle voice. And still, for a second, she did not know how to react, unable to read through his eyes, always so unpredictable, yet she could not help the small smile that drew on her face.

"Would you rather I used your name?" She asked, feeling that gentle warmth spreading slowly through her chest waiting some moments for his answer.

He did not reply with words, only nodding his head once, but that was enough. And it was again the small actions, the ones any other elf would probably deem insignificant which seem to speak the loudest when it came to him. True, she had called him by his name many times before, he had already given her permission to do so. But she had always tried to constantly guess when to do so, learning that he had not been entirely comfortable with it. It had always been her initiative. He had never previously asked it of her.

"You danced?" He continued the conversation, as if not putting too much emphasis on his on his previous request, but once again it was a behavior she had almost anticipated.

"Yes" She let out a light laugh, taking another chocolate covered strawberry from the opened box that now lay in the small table separating them, one of his hands securing it as the wind threatened to send it flying.

"With Elhael?" He asked, his voice sound calmed and casual, yet his eyes emerald eyes seemed to be partially teasing her and partially…was it nervous? She did not let her emotions show on her face at his unexpected question. She could not even remember if the young warrior had been at the celebration or not, yet he seemed to have been aware of that…The young warrior had not even spoken to her since she had him down for a dance back in the Autumn Feast.

"He never asked." She admitted with a chuckle, but she once again could not read into his impenetrable eyes. Instead he turned to look at the pond for a long moment, the wind single loudly in the silence.

"Where you outside in the forest?" She asked, letting her voice remain casual as he once again turned to look in her direction, his eyes still in that perfect in between, impenetrable yet somewhat open, unreadable yet inviting, the few strands of his long pale hair that had already dried flying around in the wind.

"Orc raid." He explained, as if not really minding giving her details of where he had been. "There was a group too close to the borders. I left with a group of guards last night." So that was where he had gone.

"You must be tired." She spoke her thoughts before she could realize it. So he had been in battle, and judging by his still damp hair he must have barely just returned.

And once again his reaction she could not have guessed, one light chuckle leaving his lips, a small smile curving up and lighting his warm emerald eyes, that smile very few elves got to see.

"Yes." Was all he said, his faint smile never fading, still she had not really expected him to admit to being tired. Still the casual way with which he spoke was heart-warming. He was not pushing her way….he was letting her in. Slowly and carefully, and not her spirit, but he was letting her slowly know him.

"Perhaps you should go rest, Arahaelon." She used his name, finding out that she really like how it sounded, still lost in his unreadable welcoming forest green irises. It was already getting late, and he must have been exhausted. She would gladly cut their unplanned meeting short if it meant to allow him to peacefully rest. "I will be here tomorrow in any case."

"I am fine." He contradicted her, waving off her suggesting with a graceful move of his hand, choosing to instead pick another strawberry from the box, and she did not insist. "Besides Tadion has taken over my chambers at the moment."

"What is he doing there?" She could not conceal a round of giggles, having to remind herself that although Prince Tadion was a Prince to her, to Arahaelon he was merely a brother. They were so incredibly different.

"I do not want to find out." He closed his eyes as he spoke, as if truly not even wanted to think of what sort of mess his younger brother would be doing in his chambers. "I am however certain that at least one item will disappear or break."

She laughed again, trying to imagine what it would be like to have siblings. And still she did notice that his eyes seemed to be opening more and more as he spoke, as if a sort of worry that had plagued over him seemed to be slowly lifting.

And then, those welcoming emerald eyes turned to swallow her once more, as deep as the darkened pond, still so completely unreadable yet so inviting, so open, and she let herself fall, once again not knowing what to expect, but waiting for him to talk first.

"I am sorry." Was all he said, his voice flying softly over the raging wind, and she did not really know what she felt at the unexpected apology, reading the sudden honesty in those powerful eyes. "For walking away."

"I know." She found herself saying, feeling herself drowning in the power of those open yet impenetrable eyes, unable to look at anything but him, suddenly feeling as if even though she could not read his eyes, she understood them. And she did not know what she meant by those words. She knew he was sorry? Or that she knew why he had walked away? Or that she knew there was a wound he was keeping so concealed? And oddly enough it was as if he too could read that her words extended far beyond their immediate meaning, a long moment of comfortable silence stretching between the two.

"Not yet." He spoke quietly once more, and again she knew she could inexplicably understand in the depth of his eyes what his words would not say. She could feel in in his eyes, in the way in which her worried heart suddenly filled with gentle warmth once more, the way her spirit gravitated towards his but she never truly allowed it to push and try to reach him. Not yet. Two words, yet their meaning so vast. Not yet. It was not never. He would let her reach him, but at his own time. And she knew that whatever the cause for him to be so cautions about it, was that it was not easy for him, perhaps even painful.

She simply nodded her head, finding that words could say nothing more than their meeting eyes could not. But that seemed enough for him too. And instead, she was the one to move this time, not really knowing why or how, but suddenly standing up from her seat and walking to the long chaise where he sat, lowering herself down next to him, as if suddenly feeling that a distance had just seemed to vanish, no longer necessary, no longer truly wanted from his part.

And all she needed as confirmation was that true smile that silently appeared on his face, the one that reached his now welcoming and unsealed emerald eyes, the one that she now knew now seemed to be reserved for her.

He did not kiss her again, even though she longed to once again feel his lisp against hers, his warm breath over her skin. Instead, almost as unexpected and unpredictable as he ever was, she felt a set of slender fingers gently reaching for her hand, intertwining with hers, and she found that her hand fit perfectly there. He had always been so distant, physically distant, barely allowing any sort of touch, even carefully sitting away from her many times. Yet that simple gesture was all it took to make her heart swell once more, for again with him she somehow understood that his hand taking hers felt more intimate than the kiss ever could.

Here is chapter 6! Finally! Next update will hopefully be for Almarëa! Let me know what you think!

Also thank you so so so very much to Josie for letting me use Faraine in this chapter! If you want to read more of her (and another love story of Arahaelon) be sure to check out her own fanfic at wattpad its called the Tale of Annalee and it is beautifully written!

Thank you so so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter! I hope you enjoy reading this one! Amsim, SJ, Visitor, Teddy 2104, helenaxo, guest reviewer, and StarFilledSkies!

Again this chapter is dedicated to Martine9295, I hope you are having a wonderful and beautiful day!

Love,

Elena


	7. Books

She shifted her hold on the pile of books, stopping momentarily in her walk as she tried to manage a more comfortable way of holding up the massive weight. Oh, why had she taken this many books from the library! And still she could not resist, and probably would have taken more if she had been able to make the pile she was carrying taller without it falling over her. She should have opted for making two trips instead of trying to take all these books in only one go. At least she was almost half-way to her family's chambers in the Palace.

She turned left at the corner, stepping into the long thin hallways that lined an ample inner courtyard, having to tilt her head lightly in order to watch where she stepped. The ice cold breeze of winter toyed with her loose hair as it filtered through the stone pointed arches that lined the corridor, at times threatening to push her pile of books off balance, and making the many trees and bushes that adorned the courtyard waltz and sing to their own intimate tune.

"What are you doing?" The calmed voice made her stop in her tracks, her head turning to glance behind her in surprise, immediately recognizing that powerful quiet sound.

The Crown Prince approached her in long graceful strides, coming from the opposite side of the narrow hallway. Her lips curved up lightly at the sight of him looking oddly different without the usual rich robes, currently in an elegant simple light tunic and leggings, the soft blue fabric adorned in silver embroidery in the patterns of leaves and vines.

He easily reached her side and she was once again reminded of how tall he was, towering nearly a full head over her. His long light blond hair cascaded down his shoulders and back, neatly combed and braided, piercing emerald eyes fixed on her, narrowed slightly in puzzlement.

"I am taking these to my chambers." She smiled lightly as she spoke, watching as his eyes swept up and down the pile of books. She had not expected to see him before late afternoon.

"All of these?" A fair eyebrow rose high on his forehead, and she wondered if he too was thinking that she had indeed taken too many books from the library. "I will take them."

He did not give her a chance to reply before she felt some of the weight being lifted from her hands, and she felt herself almost regaining feeling along her partially cramped arms. She let out a silent sigh of relief, readjusting her hold on the now very small pile of books that still lingered on her hands, but slender fingers were suddenly taken those from her as well, leaving her hands completely free.

"I can help take some. You have left me empty-handed." She offered, feeling somewhat useless with nothing on her hands. And still he made carrying that pile of books seem so easy, and she would have believed they weighed nothing had she not been struggling to carry them only seconds before. In his hands, the books looked made out of air.

"I will carry them." The lightest of chuckles filtered through his voice, almost seeming offended at her insistence of not letting him carry all of the books. "You lead the way."

She relented easily and without argument, in truth relieved as her hands and arms were finally free of the massive weight, and she allowed herself to calmly walk beside him as they continued through the long narrow hallway, leaving the open courtyard behind. She noticed that he walked slower than usual, as if peacefully pacing with no rush to get anywhere.

She was only glad that these parts of the Palace were mostly empty, for she was sure that it must have been an odd sight to see the Crown Prince carrying her pile of books when he could have easily asked any servant or maid to help her instead.

"No meetings today?" She could not hold back a smile as her eyes turned to look in his direction, that warm fluttering feeling fleeting in her stomach as those swirling emerald irises, so open and so unreadable, turned to meet her.

"No." Was his casual reply, lips curving up in the ghost of a smile that touched the corner of his silently gleaming eyes. "I have the afternoon free."

Those simple words made her heart suddenly beat loudly in excitement. She had barely seen him the past week, only once had he showed up to their unplanned meetings by the pond, and he had been so exhausted and sleep deprived that he had fallen asleep within minutes. Apparently there had been some foreign dignitaries in the Palace for some sort of negotiation, and she did not need to be told that those things required unusually long meetings and entertaining dinners and banquets.

"Left here." She indicated and they started up a majestic set of marble steps. "Where were you headed before you saw me?"

"Down to the training fields." The golden sunlight brushed his silvery strands of hair as they walked, reaching the top landing of the elegant staircase and turning right into another long intricate corridor. "I thought I might catch Tadion there and perhaps challenge him to parry."

"Do you let him win?" She once again could not hold back her smile, silently pointing for him to turn left again into another narrower hallway.

"No." Unreadable melted emerald eyes narrowed at her in amused puzzlement, and she once again found herself lost in that endless forest swirling just underneath that impenetrable surface, seeming so oddly reachable and inviting yet never fully graspable.

"He is your younger brother!" She laughed, once again trying to understand what it was like to have any siblings.

"That is precisely the reason why I do not let him win." He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing, his voice that perfectly serene sound that would command even the forest with its gentle power.

"Here." She said, stopping in front of that familiar heavenly crafted set of double doors that extended high towards the intricate ceiling. She turned the knob in an easy practiced move, letting one of the doors gently slide open, revealing the ornate interior of the small vestibule.

She silently stepped inside, holding the door as he followed her closely behind and Valar she was relieved that neither her aunt nor uncle were currently in there. She noticed that he had stopped at the doorway, his eyes silently asking her if it was all right for him to step in, and she almost laughed at it, waving with her wand for him to feel at home. She knew her uncle was working and would return late in the afternoon as was usual, and her aunt had left the Palace with some maids to go somewhere in the center of town, although she had no idea what.

She led him through the vestibule and the large Sitting Room that followed, not missing how his eyes peacefully swept left and right, not missing a single detail in the ample room. Still it felt so odd having his presence there, as if both this very familiar and room and the regal Crown Prince belonged to two different worlds. They turned left once more, and she softly opened the large door to her own bedchamber, once again holding it open for him to be able to pass through.

"Where should I put them?" The gentle sound of his voice echoed through the large room, but just a second after he had spoken the Crown Prince stopped dead in his tracks, and for a second she saw him almost imperceptibly cringe, eyes widening slightly.

And never before had she been more self-conscious about the fact that there were books lying almost everywhere inside her room, over nearly every single piece of elegant furniture. She bit her bottom lip. Suddenly, judging by his momentarily stunned expression, she had the feeling that his chambers must be the neatest and most orderly chambers in the entire Palace.

"On the bed is fine." She answered his question with a graceful movement of the hand. She knew the pile of books must be heavy, even if he made it look so easy to carry.

"No." He said flatly, stunned emerald eyes still eyeing the room in anxious astonishment, not even moving from his spot at the doorway, tall and royal even though he look as if he wanted to run away. "On the bed is not fine."

She laughed lightly, the cold breeze entering from the balcony and playing with the soft green fabric of her dress. "They must be heavy, just place on the bed. I will move them later."

"To _where_?" He held tightly to the pile in his arms, not seeming willing to just drop them over the perfectly made bed, and yet looking suspiciously at his surroundings as if trying any other surface that would be empty of books. And even though the couch and the couple of elegant chairs by a small table were completely empty, she knew he would not place them there either. Oh, her aunt would love him.

And still, she felt her stomach tie in a nervous knot as she figured out that her mess of books was not the only thing he was silently cringing about, his eyes not missing the still unpacked wooden chest with her things she had brought from Lorien. She had finished unpacking almost everything, but there were still a few chests left.

He did not wait for her to reply, suddenly crossing the bedchamber in graceful steps, making his way towards the already full bookcase. And then, before she could say anything, he gently lowered the pile of books he had been carrying over the marble floor in one corner, turning once more to meet her smiling eyes.

"Why is the top shelf empty?" His emerald eyes narrowed slightly in puzzlement, an amused faint smile once again curving at the corner of his lips as he motioned to the tallest self in the exquisite bookcase.

"I cannot reach." She shrugged lightly, once again finding herself incredibly entertained by his puzzlement, her stomach fluttering at the melodic sound of his quiet chuckle.

"I can reach." His eyes were already looking around at the many books spread over furniture. "Which would you like up there?"

"Arahaelon" It was her turn to laugh as she sighed crossing the room to reach his side. "Do not worry about that. Enjoy your free afternoon, I can get a maid to help me if I need it."

She spoke her words softly in between quiet chuckles. His name sounded so easy on her tongue. He rarely had any free time at all, and she did not want him to miss his time to enjoy himself. And still he stood there, eyeing the room with a strange combination of wanting to leave running and at the same time needing to put the books _somewhere_ where they would not be a bothersome mess. And yet, he waves off her comment with an effortless move of his hand.

"No." Emerald eyes met hers, swallowing her in those gentle powerful swirls that she could understand yet not read. "There are books everywhere and there is an empty shelf. Which are the ones you have already read so that I can place them up there?"

"Arahaelon." She sighed again, unable to contain her smile at his reaction.

"There are books everywhere." He repeated in that same gentle and calmed voice that suddenly let her know that there would be no arguing that would convince of leaving this rooms in the same condition that he found it, making let out another round of light laughter. Her aunt would most definitely love him. "Which would you like up there?"

"The ones on the chair." She gave up, finding the situation too entertaining, still unable to contain her smile as he was immediately making his way to the indicate piece of furniture. "Not that chair, the one by the dresser."

"These?" He motioned to the books over the indicated chair, picking them up with extreme care at the nod from her head. And then his emerald eyes fell over the dresser's polished surface, where many of her favorite jewels lay scattered –although neatly.

"Do you not own a jewelry box?" A fair eyebrow went high on his forehead once more, even though his smile glimmered on his eyes, and she had to hold back her laugh as she understood that he was now internally debating whether to take care of her books or her jewelry. And still he had not touched anything but the indicated books, as if there was some kind of invisible line that preventing from taking anything from hers in his hands without her consent first.

"I have not unpacked them yet." She replied as she once more reached his side, taking some of the books from the chair into her own hands.

"Books first." He added silently, seeming to be speaking more to himself, as if making his mind.

She followed him back to the overly large bookcase, handing him book after book as he ever so carefully placed them all neatly on the highest shelf, taking his time and being gentle with every single one of them. And to her surprise, after he had neatly placed all the books that lying on the chair, there was still some space left on the shelf.

"Now the ones on the other chair." She anticipated his question, answering him before he could ask, smiling widely and shaking her head lightly as he went to take the new indicated pile of books.

And once again she stood next to him, carefully handing him the books as he stretched his arm all the way up in order to reach the shelf. Said shelf, however, was full before they could finish placing the books from the second chair, three of them still left in his hands.

"Those three you can return to the chair." She pointed out, immediately laughing at the un-princely expression that crossed his face.

"Nothing is returning to the chair." He was chuckling now, as if the questioning her sanity, and she felt a warm feeling fill her heart as she read in his eyes that somehow –strangely enough- he was having fun. "The chair is to sit down."

"Then over the bed." She offered another solution, and she was once again not surprised at his immediate shake of the head.

"The bed is to sleep. No items on the bed." He clarified, not letting her take the books from his hands as if he knew she would place them over the bed if he let her have them.

"They can go over the bed during the day, leaving the chair empty to sit, and then I can move them over the chair in order to free the bed to sleep." She rationalized, even though she knew her words were only making him cringe more. She did not need her bed free during the day. She would only sleep there at night!

"No." He laughed stubbornly once more, emerald eyes turning to scan every single inch of the packed bookcase. "We can place them over the bookshelf. See how the decorations on the sides extend a little higher? Those will prevent the line of books from falling sideways."

Why had she not thought about that before? Now that she looked up at the tall bookcase she could see that they could easily manage to build up an entire new row of books using the top of the bookcase as an additional shelf. Juts for the time until her uncle managed to get another bookcase built for her.

"Can you reach there?" She asked, suddenly remembering that he had had to stretch his arm to reach the highest shelf. He shook his head as a reply, and now it was her turn to look around the room to find something she could use…

"I can reach if I stand on the chair." She chuckled as she spoke, moving to drag the now empty chair across the room when a pair of pale hands went about to help her.

And once again he made moving the heavy chair seem so effortless, easily placing it before the majestic bookcase, waiting for her to slip off her shoes and offering her a hand as she climbed over it. And oh she was high now! One of her hands gripped tightly to the back of the chair as the other refused to leave his helping hand as it was now her turn to look down at him.

"Can you reach?" He asked her softly and she slowly let go of the back of the chair, standing straight over the chair and starting to stretch her arm high up before she suddenly turned around, her honey colored eyes landing on him as she gripped tighter to his hand, fearing going off balance.

"Do not let go of me!" She added hurriedly, even though he had made no move to let go of her hand, eliciting another round of that musical quiet laughter that could send butterflies swirling inside her stomach.

"I will not let you fall." He chuckled, and yet the second her eyes fell on those open whirls of melted emerald she knew that he would not let anything happen to her, even if he seemed to be teasing her at the moment. Standing up straight once more she reached her free hand as high as it would go, smiling widely as she found that she could indeed reach the top of the bookcase without trouble.

He handed her one of the books, and as it turned out she needed both of her hands to lift the heavy tome upon the top of the bookcase. And yet, the second she begrudgingly let go of his hand, she felt both of his hand gently begin placed on her waist, holding her steady in case she would falter and she had never felt safer in her entire life. Still, as she continued to place book after book all her mind could register, all she could think about were those gentle slender fingers on her waist, and she did not want him to ever let go of her.

But all too soon the top of the bookcase was also full and she cursed the Valar for making time go so fast. The hands on her waist lifted her from the chair as easily as he had carried the heavy piles of books, placing her to stand on the floor once more, and then the touch was gone, and she could feel the cold winter air touching her waist where the gentle warmth of his hands used to be.

But his eyes had not left hers, and she felt as if she could forever drown in those green oceans. And she knew she had been right from the start. There was so much more beyond those impenetrable powerful eyes of the Crown Prince, behind that perfectly composed calmed façade. Underneath the Crown Prince everyone knew and respected there was a whole other elf that anyone rarely got to see, that elf that she was getting to know more and more every day, the one who could make her knees go weak with only that touch of his carefree silent smile.

The pale blue curtains swayed at the sudden cold wind from the balcony, the ruffling sound of the trees outside filling the ample room. She saw his eyes turn in that direction, as if he could hear something she could not, the faint smile never leaving his lips as he walked into the balcony. She followed him there, her eyes dancing over the thick branches that canopied over the space like a natural ceiling, so close she could touch them if them wanted to.

"This is nice." He commented as his slender fingers brushed against the bark of one of the canopying branches, eyes turning ahead to look at the view. For a second she was about to ask him if his own balcony had branches extending into it, but she suddenly realized that this chambers must be higher up in the Palace, probably having spectacular views that would put hers into shame.

"It is." She agreed, reaching his side as she let her hands rest over the delicate railing, eyes waltzing over the extending little houses and town at the distance, almost blending with the thick forest, the raging river looking like a faint silver line from up there.

"Although I wish I could see the pond with the lilies from here." She added with a chuckle, and she heard his own quiet laughter joining her for a second. "What view do you have?"

"My chambers are on the other side of the Palace." His eyes met hers as she spoke, greener and brighter than the endless forest ahead. "I have a view to the gardens."

"Can you see the pond with lilies?" She tried to imagine such view, but knew that her imagination would not be able to do justice to a view of all of the gardens at once from above.

"Yes." He smiled again only with the corner of his mouth. "But the flowers look too small so you cannot really see them."

"It is a shame." She shrugged and he laughed once more, her heart fluttering as he unexpectedly placed a quick kiss on her cheek before his attention turned back towards her chambers, evaluating the remaining mess.

"What do we do with the rest of the books?" He seemed to be trying to figure out a way to place them in some sort of order, or at least clear them away from her useful furniture.

"Many of them have been damaged over time, so I need to figure which so that I can put them away in one of the wooden chests." She explained, already making her way back inside the chambers and pointing at the still unpacked chests of her things.

"You cannot put _anything_ in those chests unless you _unpack them_." He reached her side and she could see that he was trying to figure out how she had managed to live weeks in Mirkwood without fully finishing unpacking her things.

"It is fine." Her hand reached up to rest on his upper arm, but for the first time he did not tense at an unexpected touch. "I can do that at a different time. You have already lost an hour of your afternoon, go enjoy the rest."

"No." He shook his head once more, the smile never leaving his face. "I am not leaving these chambers in this condition. How can you live here?"

"It is only books!" It was her turn to laugh. He made it sound as if all of her things where splayed everywhere when in fact her things were carefully stored- expect for her jewelry and her mess of books.

"Bu they are _everywhere!_ " He stressed and she had to make an effort to control her madly beating heart as she felt his hand reached for hers, intertwining their fingers together. "Do you even know you have a table here?"

He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, his hand motioning to the small rounded table which's surface was completely covered in accumulated books, emerald eyes seeming to mock her playfully. She narrowed her own eyes in return.

"Of course I know I have a table there." She complained. Could he not see she was using it?

"have you ever seen its top?" His eyebrow rose even higher, if that was possible, and oh, Valar, the way his eyes were looking at her just made her wish he would press his lips to hers once more.

"Do not waste your time here." She spoke, unable to look away from his gentle eyes, her hand lifting to cup his cheek, and she felt warmth filling her already fluttering heart as his palm pressed gently over her hand, keeping it there.

"I am not wasting it." Was all he said, and she could feel his warm breath brushing her skin, his lips suddenly touching hers in a gentle kiss that made her heart almost jump out of her chest, her spirit soaring with desire to reach his, feeling that pulling, that stirring, but she did not reach for his this time. Not yet.

All too soon he broke the kiss, but this time he did not pull away, his forehead still resting against hers, their noses almost brushing. But, Eru, why did time had to keep on going? Why could she not stop it whenever she wanted to?

"Now," He looked up once more, turning his eyes towards the remaining piles of books, although she noticed that his hand never left hers, their fingers still intertwined. "Which chest should we unpack first in order to be able to sort out the books?"

She let out a light laugh, quickly deciding on a chest to start, and, Valar, who would have thought that sorting out books and unpacking would turn out to be the best afternoon she had ever had. They went through chest after chest, and he even helped her placing all of her jewelry neatly over the newly unpacked silver jewelry boxes. And then they went through the books, slowly clearing pile after pile. She was sad to discovered that many more books than she had anticipated had been damaged, many beyond repair. But he insisted on keeping a list of her damaged books to know which ones would need replacement.

And she did not even notice time, the hours flying by in a whim. She did not even notice when they had tired of moving around the room so much and had moved the books to piles on the floor, or when they had sat down on the floor, their backs against the bed and had started to inspect the books for damage and sort them out from there. She did not even notice that she had never put her shoes back on, and could not even remember when he had also discarded his. She only knew that at some point – after many hours- she had walked outside to their small kitchen and had retrieved a bowl full of honey bread and had prepared tea for the both of them. But the tea had long ago grown cold and forgotten, only half-drunk in both of their cups lying on the cold marble floor, the bowl of honey bread nearly empty now.

And she could not tell when she had started to move closer, or when he had started to lean towards hers, all she knew was that she ended up with her body leaning against his chest, feeling his perfectly sculpted muscles through the rich silk of his tunic, one of his arms snaked loosely around her waist. They had stopped looking at books individually and now the both looked at whatever book he picked and placed on her lap, his chin almost resting over her shoulder. It felt so odd, yet so comforting so natural to be sitting this close to him, their bodies touching, and for the first time she knew that he too was completely comfortable there, not wanting any sort of distance.

The sun was already setting in the horizon by the time they finished sorting out her books, all of the tables, chairs and even the desk now completely free to be used, her books now either on the bookcase of neatly packed in the wooden chests – and she had no idea how he had managed to pack them so cleanly. And still they sat by the foot of the bed, now sitting side by side as the cold breeze made the trees outside dance and twirl, neither of them wanting to get up just yet.

The faint sound of footsteps outside was the only warning she had, her head flying towards the door which suddenly opened before she could even react.

"Indilene, do you-" Her aunt stopped in tracks, still standing at the doorway looking momentarily perplexed. Valar, she wanted to disappear. She would have a _lot_ of explaining to do tonight, and she _did not_ look forward to It.

But thank you, Eru, for her aunt's ever easy personality, which could always reaming calmed and casual even in the most surprising of situations, a wide smile –probably too bright for her liking- drawing on her face as she nearly waltzed inside the piece, as if nothing felt strange to her.

"You did not tell me we were having company." Her aunt seemed too delighted about the situation, her storm grey eyes meetings hers with a gleam that only meant she would be asked a million questions later that night. Next to her, Arahaelon had remained perfectly composed, the perfect picture of royal serenity, even though she could feel him suddenly tense. Oh, he too wanted to disappear, and probably even more than she did! He must be so uncomfortable now.

"Indi, have you not offered His Highness anything but plain honey bread?" Her aunt half-scolded with a shake of her head, her grey eyes narrowing in her direction, noticing the nearly empty bowl. If there was something her aunt _adored_ was hosting. Given the opportunity of having any guest she would bring out every single pastry, tart, or snack that they possessed. And now she was sure there was another thing why she would be grilled tonight. But thankfully again her aunt did not look or sound nearly half-way as scandalized as Indilene probably knew she was.

"I am fine." Arahaelon added politely, that perfect smile that did not touch his eyes appearing on his lips, once again the Crown Prince, and she knew that nobody, except her, would be able to tell just how uncomfortable he was.

But her aunt did not seem to have heard him as her eyes continued to partially glare at her. And still she did not miss the way her aunt's eyes almost unnoticeably widened as she took in the now perfectly neat room. It was as if her aunt was suddenly trying to decide in between being ecstatic that the mess of books had disappeared, or confused and worries as to how that had happened. And if only her aunt found out that Arahaelon had help her….Valar, she did not want to see how scandalized her aunt would be. She could almost already her the lecture she would receive. You have brought the Crown Prince into this mess of a room for to perform the task of a maid! She could already see it coming.

"Of course, My Lord." She was once again thankful for the casual and easy sound of her aunt's voice, as the situation was incredibly normal to her, only bowing her head politely as she addressed Arahaelon. "You are more than welcome to stay for dinner."

She tried to ignore the hopeful gleam concealed in her aunt's eyes, but it seemed that the mention of dinner had given Arahaelon the perfect opportunity to excuse himself. And although she was happy he would not be forced to stay because of politeness, she was somewhat disappointed that he would leave.

"I appreciate your offer, but I am already expected somewhere." He spoke, always sounding so regal, so serene. And still she knew his words were true. Still she could not help but feel her heart sink as he rose to his feet, with her following his example.

The sky outside had turned a dark shade of purple, the blackness of the night only some minutes away. She watched in silence as he politely inclined his head in farewell, and she accompanied him towards the door, -her aunt following behind as saying respectful farewells as etiquette demanded- and all too close she was watching him walk away through the intricate corridor of the Palace.

She closed the door with a silent click, turning on her heels only to find the gleaming eyes of her aunt. It was as if for the first time her aunt could not find her words, looking at her as if she had suddenly grown blue hair.

"Do not tell Ada yet?" She pleaded. She had not wanted her aunt to know about anything yet, at least not before she was sure he felt comfortable about it. She knew that any relationship with the Crown Prince would follow incredibly different protocols than any other regular relationship, and she knew he did not want to call any attention on anything yet.

Instead of speaking, her aunt only nodded her head, her eyes glistening in delight. If there was one thing she knew was that her aunt could keep a secret, and said aunt seemed to be enjoying it _far too much_ to know just _which_ secret she was now keeping. And still, when she was finally able to speak, the words that left her aunt's mouth were the ones she had last expected.

"And you wanted to wear a _used old dress_ for Winter's Solstice" Oh Valar, here came the questions.

And there were thousands of them, some of which she knew how to answer and some of which she definitely did not. And of course, along with the questions came the scolding: Do not call him by his name, you should show respect; he saw the mess in your chambers!; you made him help you unpack! All and more than she had expected. And of course there were the questions that she had been expecting: Did he send the bracelets? Was he courting her? How long had they been seeing each other? How did it even happen in the first place? Does the King know? –Valar, she hoped not! - And then, there was that question, the one that made the tone in her aunt's voice suddenly change, becoming sober yet smiling, looking at her straight in the eyes: Are you happy?

"Yes." And an answer had never come so easily to her before. She only hoped her aunt had not scared him away.

Never before had she been so sure of that. The answer to her question only confirmed once again the next day, when she found an unexpected item waiting for her in her bedchamber after lunch. There, sitting on the dresser by the open balcony was a large cut crystal bowl, the golden rays of sun reflecting in thousands of colors over its intricate surface. It was filled with almost to the top, and there, floating delicately lay at least ten water lilies, the most beautiful her eyes had ever seen. Only a small card had been left next to the bowl, her name written in his elegant slanted calligraphy. And she was sure her heart was about to burst. Her own pond of water lilies. He thought of everything- and the only thing she lately thought of was _him_. Yes, she was happy.

Hi there! Here is chapter 7! The overlap with Almarëa is coming soon in the story, just a warning in case it brings any spoilers to anyone who has not yet read it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think!

Thank you so much to you who reviewed the last chapter! I love each and every single one of your comments and it means a lot to me to hear that you are enjoying the story! Thank you for taking the time to comment: Amsim, wwwz3, Teddy2104, StarFilledSkies and Josie.


	8. Relief

A drop of ink splashed over the previously pristine parchment, blossoming and spreading right over the words he had been so carefully writing. He let out a sigh, cursing his lack of attentiveness immediately placing the exquisite quill to one side over a linen cloth so that it would not drip over the desk.

His father's eyes lifted from his own work to gaze in his direction for what seemed like the hundredth time, lowering them once again wordlessly, continuing his reading undisturbed. The Crown Prince took a second glance at the splotch of black now in the middle of the parchment. A couple of words could no longer be read. He would have to start again from the beginning.

Silently, he placed the ruined yellowish parchment to the side, taking a new blank one and carefully cleaning the quill from any remains of ink that might fall before starting all over. Word by word he let the quill dance, the soft scratching sound singing in harmony to the cracking flames in the majestic fireplace.

The weather outside was doing little to help his concentration. The pale grey light filtered dully through the tall crystal windows, signaling a sky overcast with heavy clouds, the window crystal's frosting under the harsh cold air outside. Soft flurries twirled slowly down the air in a weightless dance, accumulating over the stone windowsill and covering in uneven patches the ever green grass. It would melt throughout the night. He could already tell the snow would soon turn into rain.

Normally he would have taken his paperwork to his chambers and work there, but there was no point in trying to move everything he would need when in less than an hour he was expected in this very room with his father for yet another meeting. He did not need to ask for the time to know that there were still some long hours left before the sunset.

Sunset. Only thinking of that made his mind start drifting again, his eyes absently gazing outside the window, easily finding that particular frozen pond amidst the infinite gardens. Unsurprisingly, there were very few elves outside, only a handful of ladies strolling casually, wrapped in thick elegant cloaks and gloves.

She was there, sitting on that same chaise facing the pond, although why she was there this early in the afternoon and in this freezing wet weather he could not comprehend. And yet, he wished that his father's grand study had a better view of that particular garden, for he could barely make out her delicate figure through the lush green branches of the neighboring gardens, everything looking so tiny from above.

He placed a strand of his long hair behind his ear, returning his eyes to his work, copying word by word from the previous parchment. He cursed inside his mind once again: he had misspelled the last word. Why did these reports have to be neatly written in ink where no mistakes were ever allowed? Silently and taking a deep breath, he placed the quill aside again, discarding the newly ruined parchment and picking out another blank one.

His father closed his book, the heavy thud echoing over the tall book covered walls of the massive study. He turned his eyes up only to find his father's ice blue eyes studying him carefully, the ghost of a sly smile curving on the corner of his mouth.

"You may go." Did he hear correctly? He knew he had not shown hi puzzlement in his face, but his father could always read through him no matter what.

"I will finish here. Send for Tadion on your way out, I will have him attend the meeting this afternoon for a change. You are free to go." His father continued, waving a hand elegantly at the pile pf parchments currently sitting in front of his son. He could not help feeling guilty at the offer, knowing that his father would must probably spend nearly all night working if he took over these reports as well.

"Ada…" He started, but his father but him off almost immediately.

"Go before I change my mind." His father dismissed, picking up the book once more and lowering his eyes to the infinite pages, a strange gleam sparkling in their icy blue depths.

A smile curved up on his lips, his hand almost immediately setting the quill down and carefully closing the cut crystal flask of deep black ink. He neatly arranged the parchments, quickly sorting the finished and unfinished reports in separate piles before rounding the large oak desk, feet walking in long strides towards the pair of tall doors.

"I want to meet her." He did not have to turn around to hear the smirk in his father's voice.

"How…?" Was all he was able to say, turning around only to find his father's eyes smiling back at him, a strange combination of pride and teasing gleaming hidden in his ice blue eyes. But he did not even need to ask. He knew there was nothing he could ever hide from his father.

"I have never seen you so eager to finish with the day's duties, or paying so little attention." His fathers waved a hand almost absently as he spoke, even though his knowing eyes continued to smirk at him underneath a raised brow. "And it has been a while since you have smiled this much at dinner, almost every day now."

The Crown Prince shook his head, unable to contain a smile from growing on his face. He did not say anything else, simply turning around and heading outside the room, his father once again immersed in his heavy book.

"My father sends for Tadion." He instructed the guards flanking the door, not turning to look at their faces. He knew they would follow his command almost instantly. It felt strangely relieving to give that command, as if for the first time he would not be the one forced to sit through another endless meeting.

Crossing the long labyrinth of corridors in long strides, nearly running to his chambers and picking out the first thick winter cloak he saw. Never mind the cold outside, his feet were already guiding him out towards the terraces, deep blue robes trailing silently behind him.

He had to blink a couple of times as he stepped outside into the snow patched grass, the soft cold flurries sticking to his eyelashes and hair. His slender fingers pulled the cloak's hood over his head, even though it did little to prevent the wind from blowing snowflakes into his face, touching his skin in a cold kiss and dying in droplets of iced water.

The snow churned underneath his feet, making the ground uncharacteristically slippery as the drops of ice accumulated in a thin ephemeral layer, making it hard to distinguish in between puddles and ice patches. The ground smelled wet, that sweet fresh scent of humid leaves travelling in the gentle iced breeze. He walked in silence, enjoying the manner in which the cold weather meant there were very few elves to greet in the gardens, the majority of which did not even pay attention to him under the heavy cloak.

It was as his feet knew their trajectory better than his own mind did, turning left and right around trees and bushes, rounding large beds of snow-covered roses and blossoming silver flowers on their own accord. Up above his head, the heavy sky seemed almost white, a pale gloomy grey that extended homogenously as far as the eye could see, the kind of sky that makes everyone wonder if there was even a sun somewhere amidst the mist.

He stopped when he saw her, still oblivious to his presence, her honey color eyes lost in the frozen pond. The dull grey light heightened the ashen tones in her long silken hair which fell freely down her back and to her waist. She had not even pulled the hood of her cloak up, the tiny snowflakes showering over her head as her hand made a long stick of graphite dance over the pages of an open book in her lap.

"Oh, my eyes!" He laughed quietly as he sat down next to her, exaggeratedly pressing a hand as if to shield his eyes as his other hand pointed at the image she had been drawing.

Honey colored eyes, as bright as the morning sun, lifted in his direction, a chorus of laughter sweeter than any melody leaving her mouth.

"You are early!" She smiled, closing the book over her lap, the graphite rolling over her knees and falling to the grass with a deaf sound. He leaned down to pick it up, shaking the water and snowflakes from it before handing it back to her.

"Were you drawing the lilies again? Under this weather?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am getting better at it." She pushed a strand of her long ashen hair behind her ear.

"You are not." He pointed out the truth with a light chuckle as she placed the opened book over his lap for him to inspect her messy arrangement of lines. "Why do you keep insisting on drawing?"

"Because I like it." She shrugged, and Valar, he would never understand how she could not have cared less at how ugly her drawings were. "Can you teach me?"

"To draw?" He studied her face, slightly surprised by the request, only to find her honey colored eyes looking at him peacefully, gentle.

"Yes." She nodded, and he did not know what to say for a moment. He could not say no to her, he would never say no to her, but it had been so long since he had last drawn, since he had held a piece of graphite or charcoal in his fingers…

"Not right now, of course." She added quickly, as she could easily read through to his thoughts. "But perhaps someday."

"Perhaps someday." He agreed, breaking his gaze from her eyes and gently closing her book over his lap.

"Are you free for the rest of the day? You are still wearing robes." She asked him, her eyes brightening up at the prospect and Valar he wanted to press his lips to hers.

"I am free." He smiled at her expression. "I had a meeting but no longer have to attend it. What plans did you have for the afternoon?"

"None, really." She chuckled, pressing her thick cloak closer to her body at the iced breeze toyed with her hair. "I thought I might head into town for a walk. Would you like to come with me?"

Her eyes lit up at the expectation, but he raised a questioning eyebrow at her words. Into town? With this grim wet weather? And still he already knew he would comply with her request. Although leaving the Palace meant that due to protocol he would require at least one guard following him – even if two were always preferable. He would have to tell the guards not to follow him and stay in the Palace. It would not be easy, as it was his father's orders that him or any of his siblings were always guarded when leaving the Palace…He had not been into town for so long he could barely picture what it felt like to be there.

"Into town? Now?" He questioned her, that smile that seemed softer than the falling snowflakes playing on her delicate face. "You do know it will rain soon, do you not?"

"It will not rain." She laughed at his words at if the prospect of rain sounded completely absurd, and, Eru, he could hear that sweet melodic sound for the rest of eternity. "It is snowing."

"It is not cold enough for it to keep snowing for long." He shook his head, explaining the situation to her even though he already knew his words would absolutely ignored by her reasoning. "This will easily turn into rain."

"I still want to go." She was stubborn, her hands fidgeting with the corners of her book. "I have not been there in such a long time."

At first he was confused, but quickly remembered that she had spent the past years in Lorien. Perhaps she had not been to town for as long as him. He let his eyes gaze around them, knowing that this particular garden was already empty. Still, the wet weather and patches of puddles and snow reflecting the greyish blue of the overcast sky above was all that he needed to confirm his thoughts. There would be few guards outside in the main courtyard in this weather, and none of them would look twice at him wearing the hood of his cloak, especially if it was snowing.

"Very well." He said, rising to his feet and extending a hand for her to take, pulling her up in a gentle move. "We will have to sneak out."

"Sneak out?" She narrowed her eyes in slight disbelief. "You are Crown Prince, certainly you are allowed to go into town as you please?"

"Certainly." He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head once more at her trail of thought. "However, unless you would rather have a guard following us, we will require to sneak out."

"Do you always need a guard?" He watched as the corners of her smile dropped, and for the first time in his life he wished he could have been any common elf who could accompany her anywhere in Arda she wanted without any of this obnoxious protocols and complications.

"Most of the time, yes." There was no point in denying it, even though he wished he could tell her otherwise. "It depends on the situation and place, and it is mostly out of decorum."

"Can you not order them not to follow you?" She seemed confused, turning her head slightly to the side as her honey eyes stared deeply into his, once again giving him that feeling that she could see right through him. And she knew what she was thinking. How could he have so much power and at the same time so little.

"Not if the orders come from the King." He clarified, and he watched her mouth curve in the delicate shape of a tiny 'oh'.

"All right." She spoke, suddenly sounding a little too excited about _sneaking out_ , making another chuckle leave his lips as her face lit up like that of an efling who was about to be shown magic. "How do we sneak out? Is there a secret way out? A hidden door?"

"You have far too much imagination." He mocked her, letting his fingers intertwine with hers as he started to lead the way slowly through the ample gardens. "We will sneak out through the main gates."

"The main….? That does not make much sense, does it?" She sounded slightly disappointed at the lack or hidden door or secret passage.

"It makes the most sense." He corrected her. The snow was starting to fall heavier now, and he watched as she pulled her own hood to shield her head from the falling flakes. "If we do not hide, the guards would not think there anything to look for."

"I do not get it." She shook her head, but did not ask anything else.

He could already see the grand courtyard in front them, a fine layer of white covering the grass like a soft blanket. Just as he had anticipated, there were only two guards standing duty, not really paying much attention to their surroundings. He knew the guards were to be watchful of anyone attempting to enter the palace. Leaving would be entirely too easy: After all, all elves that lived at the palace left continuously to spend time either in the forest or out around town.

He kept walking at the same slow pace, Indilene close by his side. With the snow wearing hoods was not unusual, and nobody would pay attention to who was hiding under the cloak. He could have been any other elf in the Palace. And just as he expected, they walked right out of the main gates, the guards noticing them without turning to look at who they were.

"That was not much fun." She muttered with a quiet laugh as they strolled down the sloping path that started to meander in between thick trees. The stones were unusually slippery under their feet, and they were forced to slow they march, being overly careful as to where they stepped.

"Next time I will think of some secret passage or door to make it more interesting for you." He mocked her, his eyes looking through the dense screen of grey and brown tree trunks, already seeing the small houses and buildings that composed the center of town. It was only a couple of minutes' walk down from the palace.

"So what would you like to do in town?" She changed the subject, her honey eyes glinting once again with their usual fascination. Even the most banal of things seemed fascinated to her, nothing ever seeming too plain or boring to her eyes.

"I will go wherever you wish to go." He shrugged, letting his hand once again reach for hers, lacing their fingers together. "I have not been here in years."

"There must be a place you wish to go." She insisted. "There are no guards following you. You can go anywhere. _Anywhere_. We can do _anything._ "

He let out a quiet laugh at her enthusiasm. Valar, who ever heard must think he was prisoner that had just been set free for the first time in his life.

"It does not work that way." He placed a quick kiss on her cheek, noticing how cold her skin had gotten under the iced breeze. "It is not as if the absence of guards following me means that I can do and behave in any way I wish. Not in public. But it is refreshing not to have someone shadowing my steps."

She let out a sound that seemed a strange combination in between a sigh and a chuckle, her honey colored eyes turning to gaze at him momentarily. All right, perhaps one thing seemed boring to her eyes: him, at this precise moment.

"I am disappointing you today, am I not?" He rose an eyebrow as he spoke, too amused at her obvious expressions. "No secret doors, no hidden paths, no rebellious attitude now that I am guard free and outside the Palace…."

"You should keep a list." She smiled as she spoke, gleaming eyes teasing him. "Keep track of all of those things of which you now have to make up for."

He laughed as a response, not telling her that he was indeed keeping a detailed list inside his head. It was so easy to laugh freely in her presence, to say anything that came to his head. It fascinated him and at the same confused him, as if there was really nothing he could hide from her, as if she could understand through any of his actions, read even through his silence.

The path was widening a couple of meters ahead of them, and he could already see the collection of smaller lacing paths that met it, houses with long thin columns and buildings that seeming to grow out of the trees coming into view. They were still a little far from it, but even from the small distance he could see that the streets and paths were mostly deserted: The weather had everyone tucked warmly in the comfort of their own houses.

She screamed, his head immediately flying in her direction, suddenly alert. She jumped, the back of her head hitting against his cheekbone, making him close his eyes at the unexpected impact. He felt her collide against him, the move too fast, slipping on the snow and iced covered path, and then her hands were gripping at his cloak for support, his own feet sipping. He did not notice he was falling until he hit the rocky path, a negligible weight falling over him. A sharp pain flashed on his left arm, just under his elbow, and only then he realized he had used that arm to stop his fall. The rocks in the paths must have probably cut through his skin.

His head turned immediately once again in her direction as she let out another panicked cry, her body writhing around, hands frantically brushing at the skirts of her dress. It was as if his heart had momentarily stopped beating, eyes flashing around to their surroundings, to her, all of his warrior instincts suddenly taking over as worry pooled deeply in his stomach. What was wrong? Was she all right?

He tried to reach for her, but she squirmed violently again, throwing her back against him and nearly knocking him out of breath, his elbow sliding more over the rocky path and be bit down a hiss of pain. He managed to grab at her, his arms frantically wrapping around her waist protectively and he saw her kicking her legs around, hands continuing to brush the skirts of her dress.

And then she was still. Her body suddenly relaxed, her back awkwardly falling against him as she breathed out heavily, seeming relieved, a hand flying to rest over her chest. For a second he was sure he had never before been more puzzled in his entire life, his warrior instincts still alert, eyes searching all around them for anything that might have caused this reaction. And when he saw it, he did not know whether he wanted to laugh at her or murder her. Just there, a couple of feet away from Indilene's feet, the tiniest of spiders was quickly making its way away through the stones, like a little black dot that moved. And yet Indilene's panicked eyes were still watching it intently, following its every move as if it was the largest most terrifying monster her eyes had ever seen.

"Quiet." He whispered in her ear, her arms wrapping tighter around her slightly shaking body. She was absolutely terrified. "It might hear you, and eat you alive."

He received an elbow to his side in response, honey colored eyes glaring at him fiercely, but he decided he deserved it. Instead, he let out a laugh, not able to stop his chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, laughing until his sides hurt. How long had it been since he last laughed like this? He could not stop. He could see her eyes glaring daggers at him at first, as if attempting to stress her point that she did not find it funny to be mocked, but not even she could hold her laughter for much, and soon enough she too was shaking with chuckles to his side.

He could feel the wetness in his robes and cloak, the snow and iced water covered nearly all of him now from he had fallen, but she was no dryer. And Valar he was only glad that there was nobody to be seen around, for the first time thankful for the horrible weather.

"What happened to you?" She asked in between chuckles, her eyes widening slightly as he felt her cold finger's gently brushing against his cheekbone, just underneath his right eye.

" _You_ happened to me." He narrowed his eyes in reply, reaching for her hand which fell exactly on the spot where the back of her head had collided against his face.

"I am sorry." Her eyes went wide, the expression on her face suddenly slightly panicked, resembling that of an elfling's. He waved off any of her worries with an elegant movement of the hand.

"I am fine." He placed a quick kiss on the back of her hand, but her eyes continued to look at him almost too guilty.

"It is red…I will bruise." She looked mortified. Anyone who saw her face at the moment would believe she had stabbed him.

"It is fine." He calmed her, but her eyes seemed to be scanning him already, looking for any other point in which she might have accidentally hit him.

"You are bleeding." She breathed out, all traces of her gorgeous bright smile leaving her face, and he would have done anything to have it remain there, always outshining the sun.

Immediately his right hand flew to cover the cut just underneath his left elbow, trying to keep any blood out of her sight, afraid that she might faint again but her fingers were already fighting his, trying to get a look at the wound.

"Do not look at it." He indicated, but her eyes threw a quick glare at him.

"I will be fine. If the blood is not coming out of me then it does not bother me." She clarified, her hands managing to gently unlatch his fingers from around his elbow, turning his arms to inspect the minor injury. The wide sleeve of his robes had slipped back during the fall and the long sleeve of his silver tunic underneath now lay ripped where his arm had smash against the ground, revealing a long scratch that was stained with a combination of fresh crimson blood and dirt and dust and tiny little rocks.

"It is merely a scratch." He pointed out, which was the truth, but she was looking at it as if someone had cut his arm off.

"We should clean it." She was right about that, even though he shook his head, wanting her to forget about that tiny scratch and let them continue their way.

And yet, before he could say anything he felt her delicate fingers gently pushing at the sleeve of his tunic, just where it met his wrist, starting to pull it back from his arm, revealing his skin…..He snatched his arm away from her grasp, a sudden fear rushing through him, leaving her perplexed for a second, both of her hands rising slightly in the air as if to prove she meant no harm. Her eyes pierced through him, gentle, patient, and yet once again making him feel as if she could see right through him.

"I am merely going to clean it." She spoke gently, her expression as calmed as before, as if his sudden reaction had not affected her. And yet her eyes continued to carefully study him, patient, as if she knew…..

She could not know. There was no way for her to know. For a moment he did not move, eyes staring deeply into hers, keeping his left arm close to his body almost instinctually. He should not have reacted as fast as he did, she now knew something was amiss, that he was hiding something. Btu she had peeled his sleeve back, she had been about to see it, and he did not know how he felt about that, did not know why he kept it so concealed, as if revealing that almost invisible mark meant revealing the much deeper wound along with it.

And he never really knew why, but the gentle quietness of her peaceful eyes, which swirled as sweet as liquid honey, warm and welcoming, made him move. It seemed to go against all of his instincts, against anything that he would have done in any other circumstances. Slowly, he extended his arm once again for her to inspect, feeling the cold touch of her bony fingers as she solely started to pull his long silver sleeve back.

He closed his eyes, his face a stone mask of serenity, not betraying anything that might be going through his mind. He could feel her fingers against his skin, the sleeve being pulled higher and higher, right over it, and he knew it was in plain sight now, his sleeve now over his elbow, but he did not open his eyes to see her reaction. He did not want to see her eyes looking at it.

Instead, he felt her fingers turning his arm, so that his elbow with the minor scratch was facing up, and he felt a cloth being brushed against it gently, cleaning the dirt and dust. He opened his eyes, mostly in confusion, only to find her carefully cleaning the small scratch, her eyes still as peaceful and open as before, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She had seen it, of that he was sure, but part of him was glad that she acted as though she had not, even if the other part ached at how she immediately pretended to not have noticed. He was hurting her by pushing her away, by not letting her spirit reach his, not letting his own spirit reach for her, never once pushing him.

"That is as best as I can do." Her voice pulled him out from his wondering thoughts, his eyes flying to inspect the now roughly clean scratch. It would heal within a day, two at most.

Still he did not say anything, slowly turning his bare arm around, eyes landing on his inner arm. There it was, seeming to jump immediately in sight, so vague and yet so noticeable to him, as if always calling for his attention whenever on sight. His eyes followed the contours of the little fingers imprinted on his skin, and he was aware that she too was watching, even though she stayed silent. Such a tiny insignificant mark, barely a scar at all, but he knew the scar was not on his skin. Such a tiny thing, and yet so much of him lost.

He lifted his eyes, meeting a silent pair of gentle hazel orbs looking patiently at him, not looking down at the mark in his arm even though it was right there on plain sight. He knew she would ignore she had seen it, would pretend it was not there. And he knew the reason why: to not push him away….better said, to not make him push her away, not make him suddenly become cold and distant once more…But could he let her know just how deep the wound really reached? Would it hurt him?

"Shall we keep going?" She smiled at him, that warm smile that brushed away any sort of concern. But he did not want her to pretend any longer.

He shook his head, not finding words as he braced himself for the decision he had struggled to make amidst the fight inside his head, inside his being. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Why was it so hard? It should not be this hard, and yet it was. He was scared, frightened beyond what he could explain. He avoided any kind of contact with any other spirit, even keeping his father and siblings at bay through the bond they shared as family, not letting any of them reach him, scared of any contact on the still tender wound. The wound was there, pulsating, a black hollow void where what left of his energy strained in a painful imbalance, form being easily ignored somedays to suddenly dropping or magnifying like waves at other days.

It was the hardest thing he had done, seeming to go against all of his instincts, his fear wanting to pull him back. But he reached for her, slowly, tentatively. Her spirit was so close to his now, close enough that he knew she could feel the presence of such an obvious wound even if he had not fully reached her. He braced himself for pain, for the torturous jerk he would feel once anything came in contact with his fractured spirit, his imbalanced energy.

He drew in a breath. And it felt as if he was breathing for the first time after many long years. Her spirit reached him, almost too easily, warmth suddenly filling him, and he felt…..he felt fine. He did not know what to say, what to think. The painful void had seemed to disappear, it did no longer hurt, no longer tortured him, even though he could still feel it there, where it was, where it should have bene painful. For the first time in many long painful years, it felt as if his spirit was…whole. It was like floating after being anchored by heavy weights, head finally breaking through the surface after drowning. He felt….like himself….whole….well. For the first time nothing hurt.

He opened his mouth, but could not speak, her spirit still intertwined with his, a frail bond yet already growing stronger. She did not know how it felt, the magnitude of the burden that the sole presence of her spirit laced with him lifted from him. He had almost forgotten how it felt without that void, even though it was still there, only not able to feel it. He could not feel the wound. _He could not feel it._

He felt claws closing in his throat, not able to find his words, closing his breathing momentarily. He had believed he would never feel this way again, had come to terms with it….it felt surreal, a wish he had not even attempted to make. It was relief. Relief that had finally come after a long suffered torture. Relief that he had expected would never come.

He felt cold fingers grasping his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and at first he was confused, but he felt something sliding down his cheek, slowly trailing down his face. A tear. He was crying? In front of her? But he could not control it, the momentary relief from his misery was too great. He closed his mouth, knowing that words would not come out at the moment, his throat too tight. Instead, he breathed. And for the first time the air was fresh.

The first few drops hit his head and body, ice droplets of what had been snow not too long ago. It quickly turned into rain, giving little warning drops before it poured right over their heads. Just as he had predicted. The iced drops trailed down his face, drenching his hair and mixing with his tears. But it too felt as if for the first time in many long painful years he could feel them, could concentrate purely on them since he did not have to maintain a part of him focused on keeping his own torn spirit at bay, keeping the wound ignored so that it would not affect him. He had forgotten how it felt to feel everything around him so clearly, to focus on the world instead of keeping his thoughts and efforts centered inward, trying to keep himself together and functioning properly.

"Are you all right?" She broke the silence, eyes carefully looking at him, partially worried, having to raise her voice slightly to be able to speak above the thunderous drumming of the raindrops against the ground. She was drenched, her silken ashen hair sticking to her head and face, and making her blink away the drops that gathered in her long lashes. He knew he must have looked ridiculous, sitting down on the ground next to her, in the middle of the main path towards town, even it was deserted at the moment, unable to stop his tears from flowing.

"I am well." Was all he was able to force out of his throat, squeezing her hand tightly in his, not wanting to ever let it go. As long as her spirit remained close, intertwined with his, as long as she stayed by his side, he was well.

Here is chapter 8! It was supposed to be a little longer but because of the word count I cut it into two parts, so the next chapter will start right where this one left off.

Again thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter: Amsim, Exey23, StarFilledSkies, And the visitor and guest reviewers!

The story should start to align with Alamrëa in the next chapter. For those of you who asked what was happening in Almarëa/Elerrina during this story begins in the same fall where Elerrina has just arrived in Imladris. The twins and Rina get to Mirkwood by Winter's Solstice, and it's already winter in this story.

Anyway I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Love,

Elena


	9. Fear

"You were right. It rained." She spoke over the thundering raindrops, her hazel eyes looking above at the pouring sky, lips smiling with a kind of joy he had never seen on her face before.

"I know." He was surprised he was even able to find his voice, still feeling the warmth of her spirit intertwined with his. He was not able to stop smiling, the sudden relief, the sudden freedom something he had not ever considered would be possible for him to feel again. It was like breathing again, seeing again, the world around him so alive again, so welcoming, feeling that for the first time in many long years he would lose himself into it, not needing to have a part of himself always focused on stopping the pain, on distracting from the horrible void left in his injured spirit, trying to push it out of his mind.

He wiped a hand over his cheeks, hearing her musical laughter at his words. But there was not use in his gesture, the rain continued to drench over them, heavy drops washing over his face and brushing away the remaining of his tears as he got himself together. Part of him felt ashamed for shedding tears like an elfling, and still the relief to his agony had been so unexpected, so great. And yet, her eyes had not left his, swirling honey, gold stroked in green, welcoming him into their endless depths, his hand was still gripping hers tightly. She knew. She could feel every corner of his spirit now through their still weak bond. There was nothing left to hide, nothing left for him to pretend. But could she even tell what she was doing? What relief, what peace, that simple touch of her spirit intertwined with his was giving him?

"Come on, before we freeze." He laughed, and even that sounded different, even that seemed freed from a burden that had been crushing him for years.

Pushing himself back to his feet he helped her up with one of his hands, watching her brushing away the patches of melting snow from her cloak and dress. The heavy rain fell like a curtain shading their surroundings, making it impossible to see more than a couple of feet ahead. It felt like ice, soaking through his cloak and robes which now stuck awkwardly to his body, making the formal garments feel heavier than they were. And strangely enough, he could have stayed there for all of eternity, feeling the cold freezing drops travel down his hair and face, touching his skin, listening as they clashed on the gravel path, splashed on the many leaves around, made the trees sway and shake.

She threw her arms over her head, thin as they were, they would provide no shelter at all, and he let out another chuckle at her useless attempt to shield herself from the rain. She too was already drenched, her thick winter cloak pulling heavily on her shoulders. Still he did not say anything, quickly rushing down the slippery stone path, feeling her hand still safely held in his.

He could make out the hazy outlines of houses and buildings of different sizes starting to appear through the forest, emerging from the trees as if they were part of them. And they were down in the center of town within minutes. They rushed through the empty roads without any particular destination, his eyes tracing the outlines of many colorful windows, the crystals all shut tight against the drumming rain and raging wind, curtains pulled over balconies. The rain storm was gaining strength. Every now and then a royal guard on a horse would pass them by, dutifully patrolling the streets of the center of town, but none ever looked at them twice, not with their hoods over their heads, rushing about and trying to escape the freezing droplets.

"In here." She exclaimed as she suddenly pulled him by the hand, reaching for the door of the first shop she saw, quickly pushing it open.

They nearly ran inside, the loud click of the door closing behind them sealing away the peaceful drumming of the rain, engulfing them in a warm silence. The first thing he noticed was the smell, an overwhelming mix of incense and a thousand other herbs and flowers: vanilla, lavender, pinewood, daisy, roses….he could not even keep track of them, floating in the air almost overpowering.

A tiny silver bell lay ringing right above their heads, still swaying from when they had hit it with the opening door. At least it was dry with a roof over their heads, even if the water still ran down his drenched cloak and pooled over the old wooden floor at his feet.

His emerald eyes scanned the ample room, following Indilene's tiny figure as she took a couple of steps forward, brushing off the hood of her cloak from over her head. Her long ashen hair dripped down her back, wet strands sticking to the sides of her angled pale face, which curiously looked around her.

The room was large, the old wooden floor creaking at their steps, and barely any light from the overcast grey sky outside managed to filter through the narrow tall windows, leaving it in a strangely comforting semi-darkness. Piles over piles of shelves covered the walls, all filled with the strangest assortments of herbs in crystal flasks of all sizes, scented candles that varied from short and thick to tall and thin, packages of incense – where most of the smell came from-, and even some little square boxes with beautiful flowers painted on their lids- containing Eru knew that. There were rolls of yellowing parchments neatly tied with leather cords, assortments of plain quills, flasks of inks of all different colors, and he noticed a long line of tiny crystal animals in one of the farthest shelves.

"Should we wait out the rain?" He had not noticed Indilene reaching his side once more, and the room around them disappeared as his eyes once again could only focus on those endless hazel oceans. He could not tear his eyes from her, could not look away from her gentle patient smile.

The wind howled forcefully again, rattling the crystals of the few small widows in the strange shop.

"I think it wise." He said, watching her let out a light chorus of laughter that sounded like twinkling bells. She turned around, softly walking to one of the little windows, her dripping cloak dragging on the old floor behind her as she moved.

"It is getting worse outside." She whispered, leaning to glance through the crystal, which suddenly shook once more from the force of the wind, making her hurriedly take a couple of steps backwards in surprise.

He started to make his way towards her, but a slight creaking on the old wooden floorboards made him turn his head in its direction. For a second his eyes found nothing but the large wooden counter at the end of the room, just in front of an archway enclosed by a thick velvet curtain. And then, he caught something moving, the top of a little dark head rounding the high counter from behind, stopping at the very end of it, peeking through its side.

"Hello." He spoke softly, a small smile forming on his face as the little elfling became visible. She was tiny, nearly the same height as the counter, one little hand clinging to its top surface, almost ready to rush back and hide behind it if necessary. A bush of slightly tangled black waves reached barely past her shoulders, coming out of her once neat braids where the girl had clearly tugged at them.

"Hello." The elfling spoke back, a little shy sound, waving her free hand in the air. And yet her large childish eyes were looking at him curiously, darting from him to Indilene, staring at them with that innocent curiosity so characteristic of the little ones.

"Are you alone here?" He asked gently, lowering himself to be at her level, surprised to find her here without anyone around. Indilene had walked back to his side, watching curiously at the elfling too. The child shook her head, more of her golden waves falling out of her braids. And then she turned her head to look at the archway behind the counter.

"Nanaaa!" The little elfling suddenly called, one of her hands still gripping the countertop, eyes turning once again to look back at him, curiously studying his face.

"I have seen you before." The child spoke, her voice slightly shy, looking somewhat confused as she pointed a tiny finger straight to his face, only making him let out a light laugh. He had been around many elflings before, having three younger siblings, and yet it never ceased to amaze him how easily they spoke whatever it was they were thinking.

"It is possible." He agreed, watching Indilene giggling slightly beside him. And yet, the girl's eyes turned to Indilene instead, as if suddenly remembering her presence, eyeing her every feature with the same curiosity with which she had examined him before.

"I have never seen you, tough." The girl pointed her finger innocently now in Indilene's direction, making both of them let out another set of quiet chuckles.

"What is your name?" The elfling tilted her head slightly to the side, a shy smile appearing on her soft face, looking back directly at him with her curious big blue eyes.

"Ar." He replied deciding to make it easier for the girl instead of his long name, but she let out a chorus of shy giggles in return.

"That's not a name!" The elfling exclaimed, shaking her head and swaying lightly on the spot, still gripping to the countertop like a safe place.

"Why not?" He answered the still giggling elfling, watching amusedly as she shook her little head vigorously again.

"Because it's not." She replied stubbornly, her big blue eyes lifting once to study the smiling Indilene again before turning back to meet him. "What is your _real_ name?"

The elfling stressed the word _real_ as if clearly thinking that he had been playing with her, still swaying on the spot from side to side in a move that made her plain dark green dress twirl around her legs. He shook his head lightly at her, complying with her request.

"Arahaelon." He told her slowly, watching her face scrunch up at the long name. It felt amusing answering such a simple question, asking for his name, for it was a question that was never asked to him. Her little head tilted again to the side curiously before speaking again.

"Is that not the Prince's name?" She asked again, narrowing her innocent large blue eyes at him with that shy little smile. "The one with the big crown?" Her little hands reached up to her head and stretched from the top of her head high upwards, as if touching an invisible crown on her little head. And he once again could not contain a small laugh, feeling that if crowns were as big as the motion she was making, he would not even be able to lift his head.

"Yes." He answered her softly, still smiling, now his turn to watch her curiously as she let out another chorus of giggles.

"You two have the same name!" A tiny finger pointed at his face again, her other hand momentarily letting go of the counter to brush away a strand of her black curls from her face. Indilene's laughter filled the room like a welcoming song, for a second drowning away the thundering of the rain against the roof and windows.

"What is your name?" The elfling's attention returned to Indilene watching her with such curiosity and intensity that made him think that to the girl's eyes Indilene was a Princess who had just stepped into her family's shop, guessing by the looks she was giving her many bracelets twinkling on her wrists.

"Mylíen? Did you call me?" A voice suddenly called from the other side of the archway, the elfling's head turning around immediately at the name.

A second later a thin hand was pulling back the velvet curtain covering the archway, a lady with the same black waves, although hers reached down to her waist, appearing through, eyes instantly finding her daughter, who had run back to meet her. The elfling's hands had shot up to the air, in a silent command to be picked up, and her mother was quick to comply, just as her eyes for the first time noticed the presence of him and Indilene there.

"There's someone in the shop, Nana." The elfling stated the obvious, just as he rose to stand straight on his feet once more, his soaked cloak shuffling heavily. The lady's eyes swept over Indilene first, then visibly widened in surprise as they landed on him, clearly recognizing him.

"Your Highness. My Lady." The lady greeted, inclining her head almost immediately, even though her arms were still busy carrying the elfling. "I hope she was not bothering you."

He waved his hand in an elegant motion, quickly and silently letting her know that the elfling had in no way been a bother, still too amused by her curious questions and endearing shyness. The lady seemed instantly relieved, even though she appeared momentarily nervous, as if not knowing how to proceed, and for a second he wished to simply walk out of the shop and leave her and her child alone without having to worry about him. He had been so immersed in his momentary freedom, so content and at peace with Indilene, that he had temporarily forgotten that he was the Crown Prince, suddenly guardless, wet from the rain, and wondering around in town, where his presence would a surprise in every little shop.

"How may I help you, my Lord?" The lady offered quickly, once again inclining her head respectfully as she spoke, smiling warmly at him.

"You are a Lord?" The elfling chirped from her mother's arms, the latter looking momentarily apologetic for the little girl's curious question, but he merely smiled at hear, waving with his hand once more to appease her.

"We were caught outside in the rain." He explained, once again standing tall and regal, although his voice and face were gentle. The wind howled again outside, a sharp thunder wracking the earth distantly. "I hope we are not intruding."

"Of course not, Your Highness. Please, you are welcome to stay as long as you wish." The lady answered almost immediately, still seeming evidently surprised to find him there in her shop. Then her eyes travelled up and down him and Indilene, seeming to be once again noticing their soaking wet cloaks.

"Allow me to start a fire for you. The rain must have freezing. It was even snowing previously." The lady was already moving around, setting the elfling back on the floor before walking in long strides to the large plain fireplace in one corner of the shop, already starting to throw some logs into it and lighting it.

"Can I offer you anything to drink or eat, My Lord? I have tea and some cheeses and tarts." Valar, this happened every time he showed up somewhere where he was not previously expected, and he suddenly remembered why it was that he rarely came into town. The lady was nearly beaming even through her nerves, and he could tell by her face that she was genuinely hoping he would say yes, as if eager to be able to bring him something, anything, and he knew he could not say no without letting her down or being rude to her.

"Tea would be appreciated. Thank you." He complied, more than before wishing to simply run back into the rain never mind the storm that was raging, even though warm filled his heart at the lady's wide pleased smile, still looking at him with respect and admiration.

"It is a pleasure, my Lord." The lady nodded her head, quickly walking back and heading behind the counter once more, picking up the elfling in her arms and disappearing through the curtain at the archway.

He stood there for a moment, watching as Indilene elegantly made her way towards the small table by the fire, unclasping her dripping cloak from around her shoulders. He walked towards her, noticing her picking the chair closest to the warm fire. His hands unclasped his own wet cloak, the garment heavy on his hands, before draping it over the back of another chair. His outer robes underneath the cloak were surprisingly mostly dry, and he took it off and gently placed it over Indilene's shoulders, who had been crossing her arms in an attempt for her wet dress to not stick indecently over her body.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly at him as her hands gripped at the rich fabric, pressing the robes closer to her body.

"You have the same name as the Prince." She told him with a wide mocking smile, feigning surprise, as if she had just made a huge discovery. He let another untroubled laugh, a thing that he noticed he had been doing so easily in the past few hours, still feeling that warm tingling of her spirit intertwined with him. He knew the relief he felt would not be eternal, their bond still weak and starting for her spirit to reach his through distances and their spirits would separate once they returned to the palace and each went their way, but he did not want to think about that yet. For now, it was bliss.

"What a coincidence." He lowered himself to sit in front of her, watching at her delicate soft face, her long ashen hair which had started to dry, her delicate arms which crossed over the wooden table. He wanted to press his lips to hers, to kiss her, to hold her close to him and never let her go.

"Indilene?" He had made a decision. Once that he had known he had made weeks ago by now, and yet had never voiced, but now he did not want to wait any longer. Her hazel eyes turned to gaze directly at his, warmer by the flickering firelight, expectantly. "I would like to officially court you, if it would all right by you. I will speak with your uncle properly about it."

He had been holding back on officially asking her uncle permission to court her – as it needed to be done- for weeks now, trying to buy her time, to enjoy the few moments of oblivious bliss that it was while the rest of the realm ignored the relationship. But now he did not want to wait. Her large gorgeous eyes were still looking at him, smiling softly, as she always did, her joy sparkling on the depth of her irises.

"You will give him a heart attack." She chuckled, her smile so bright that it made the fire feel cold in comparison to her radiance, and he took that as a yes. Even though he was not looking forward to the conversation he would need to have with her uncle. But there was no way around it. He needed to speak to the older elf.

"Once I make our courtship official, it might not be easy." He explained, even though he could not contain his own smile from showing. But still he needed her to know. He would not drag her blindingly into it. "It will not be the same as if it were any other ellon courting you. There will be protocols, rumors, there will be stares, and every celebration of event where you officially attend with me, you will be immediately treated as my equal in rank, which might not be comfortable sometimes."

"As uncomfortable as now?" She smiled at him, her gentle always-open eyes teasingly looking around them, gesturing to the warm fire and alluding for the tea that would be brought soon. And it made him chuckle once more, even though he could read in her eyes that she understood to perfection what he meant. And then her expression turned serious once more, gazing at him for long moments.

"Will you officially announce it? Is everyone going to know immediately?" She was slightly scared, even though she managed to hide it, and he immediately shook his head.

"No." He added instantly. "I will only speak with your uncle. I have no obligation to announce anything. No change will happen immediately. It will be gradual, and hopefully slow. But I cannot stop rumors from spreading once they start, and I just wished to let you know."

"If it means I get to be with you, nothing else matters." She smiled, and he did not need her to say anything else, and for a moment he was about to lean forward, to finally pressed his lips to hers, but the velvet curtain ruffled again, and he turned to find the lady returning with a wooden tray carrying a ceramic kettle and two cups.

"I want to help, Nana!" The elfling exclaimed, suddenly appearing behind the lady, rushing to be able to catch up with her. The lady merely shook her head smiling, lowering the tray in front of them on the table.

"Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, my Lord, my Lady." She inclined her head again.

"Thank you." He added immediately in that same polite tone he knew so well.

The lady merely smiled, bowing her head once more and making her way back towards the archway, where he now assumed her house connected to the little shop.

"Mylíen." The lady called softly, beckoning with a hand for her daughter to follow, but the elfling pouted, once more shyly gripping to the counter.

"I want to stay, Nana." The elfling pleaded, still throwing curious and fascinated looks at him and Indilene.

"It is perfectly fine." He reassured the lady who was about to plead with her daughter to leave them in peace. The elfling lift up her head, large blue eyes imploring to her mother who gave her a warning look and a faint nod of the head, adding a low "Do not bother His Highness" before disappearing behind the curtain.

His attention however was once again on Indilene, who was now sipping absently from her tea, still smiling brightly at him. The rain outside continued to hammer over the roof, the hushing sound now oddly comforting in the presence of the warm fire. For a moment his eyes swept again over the thousands of cluttered shelves, wondering at the many odd things that lay there. The sound of little steps made his attention return to the elfling, who was approaching their table slowly, seeming to be waiting for his reaction to see if she was welcome or not. Indilene smiled at her softly, and the girl approached them faster now, and he let out a laugh at their predicament. There would be no kissing Indilene for a while at least. Not until they were outside the shop once the rain had stopped. The curious elfling would not leave them alone.

"What is a 'highness'?" The unexpected question made him nearly choke on the sip of tea he had taken, but he managed not to look surprised, looking down at the large blue eyes once again studying him inquisitively.

"Pardon me?" He asked the elfling, who now stood right by his chair, not understanding her question in the slightest.

"What is a 'highness'?" The girl repeated, looking at him expectantly. "You have one, do you not? Nana said not to bother yours."

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Indilene covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. The elfling was so young and innocent, clearly not having understood her mother's words, not familiar with titles.

"Where is it?" The elfling asked again shyly. "Can I see it?"

"See what?" He asked her gently, once again confused, watching as Indilene let out another chorus of giggles.

"Your 'highness'." The girl replied as if it had been obvious, waving her little hands in explanation. "I want to know what it is."

"I lost it." He made up quickly, showing the elfling his empty hands who inspected them as if expecting there to have been something. He did not want to have to answer to the elfling that it had really been a title. And he could not contain a smile as the elfling opened her mouth in a little 'oh'.

"How did you lose it?" It was hard not to laugh again, the elfling intent in continuing to ask questions.

"I fell and it fell out of my pocket." He continued to make up a tale, watching the elfling's entertained blue eyes. She was once again swaying from side to side, making her skirts twirl. Her large eyes had shifted to where his pockets where, as if suspiciously believing there to be something inside, and he put his hands inside them and took them out again, showing here there was nothing there, hearing her giggles fill the room.

"Is that how you got that?" A tiny finger pointed to his right cheek, and for a split second he was confused, one of his hands reaching up to that place only to feel a slightly painful bump there. He chuckled again, remembering the place where Indilene's head had collided with him only moments ago, which was probably bruising by now. And yet, out of the corner of his eyes he saw Indilene smiling apologetically at him, watching the barely forming bruise as if it was a mortal wound, and he instantly wanted to reassure her that it was fine, that he could not even remember it was there.

"Yes." He told her, watching the elfling let out another bunch of heartwarming giggles. The child's eyes turned once again to glance curiously at Indilene, but did not approach her, seeming too shy for that, only momentarily comfortable in directing her questions solely at him.

"What is that on your neck? The green thing?" The elfling was now pointing at the broach of his formal robes, and he had to look down to make sure what it was before answering.

"These are emeralds." He answered her with a smile, watching her large fascinated eyes dancing over the circle of small green stones set at the silver intertwining branches of the small broach.

"Can I touch them?" Large blue eyes were still examining him, a shy smile present between her rosy cheeks, looking fascinated. He did not understand her request, but then again he had long ago given up on trying to understand an elfling's mind.

"Yes." He said, picking her negligible weight easily with his hands and setting her down to sit on his lap, where she would have access to the broach. Tiny fingers fell on the hard gems, almost tentatively, as if not really knowing what to expect, and then her mouth opened in a surprised delighted expression, eyes flying to look up at his face.

"It's cold!" She exclaimed, and Indilene's laughter filled the room once more as the elfling stated the obvious.

"Mylíen!" A voice suddenly called from behind the counter at the other end of the room, the lady having suddenly appeared to check on her daughter, one hand holding the velvet curtain open. For a second she looked scandalized at finding the elfling sitting on his lap, her eyes turning immediately in his direction looking apologetic. Her mouth opened to speak but he waved his hand once more elegantly.

"It is fine." He added politely, but nevertheless the child had already jumped back to the floor at her mother's tone, quickly rushing to the lady's side, looking slightly sheepish.

"Come with me, Mylíen." The mother called softly, extending a hand which the child took peacefully. "It is time for your nap. Do not bother His Highness."

The elfling did not complain this time, following her Nana through the curtain, and he could hear her little voice adding a "But he lost it, Nana." Just as the curtain fell closed once more.

Indilene rose to her feet, his long outer robes a little too large for her, pooling around her as she moved to the nearest shelves, curious eyes looking over the many objects cluttered there. He followed her behind, watching her move from shelf to shelf, inspecting object after object.

"Smell this." She turned around to face him, holding a thick pinkish looking candle in her delicate hand, lifting it to his face. He took a tentative sniff, finding that it did not smell bad at all, a scent of soft flowers filling his nostrils.

"Smells good." He told her, and she smiled with a nod of her head as she sniffed it a second time. She put the candle back on the shelf and picked another one, giving it a soft sniff before lifting it up to him again.

"And this one?"

He smelled it, finding it nicer than the first one. This one smelled softer, and of lavender, giving away a calming aura. "I like this one better."

"I do too." She agreed, placing it back on the shelf before taking another candle, this one orange, and smelling it. She wrinkled her nose almost immediately, lifting it up for him to sniff, but he pushed her hand away.

"No." He chuckled at her attempt to make him smell the thing that obviously disgusted her. "You did not like it, so why do you want me to smell if it is clearly not pleasant?"

"Arahaelon." She laughed in complain, stretching his name as she lifted the candle once more towards his face. "Smell it."

"No." He said firmly once more, even though his face betrayed his smile. He could not look at her without smiling, not when her spirit was so very near, still latched to his, making all the pain, the wound in his spirit momentarily seem to disappear.

"Ar!" She complained in between her chuckles, and for a second he froze. The shortened name caught him by surprise, in the same way that she had startled him the first time she had used his given name instead of a title. She seemed to notice the name that came out of her mouth, because for a moment she froze too, hazel eyes patiently looking at him, waiting for a reaction. And once again he had that overwhelming feeling that she could read him better than anyone else, as if she could tell when to keep talking and when to wait a little.

But his smile only widened, loving how the shortened name sounded in her voice. It had still been surprising, making him tense for a split second, but that was because nobody outside his family called him that. Very few elves used his given name, and only his family called him Ar. But he smiled all the brightest, feeling her spirit next to his. All barriers were tumbling down around her.

"What did you call me?" He asked when he was able to push back his initial surprise, looking into her honey eyes that were looking at him intently, patiently.

"Is it all right?" She asked, still looking deeply into his eyes, searching through them, and he could not contain it any longer. He leaned towards hers, his lips meeting hers, one of his hands circling around her waist.

His forehead rested against hers when they broke apart, sill feeling her warm breaths brushing his face. "It is all right." He added, gently kissing her once more, wishing that he could stay there and never return to the palace, to stay right there by her side.

But the rain let up all too soon, and he once again found himself walking by her side through the long pebbled path up towards the Palace, after having once again thanked the lady for the tea. He had bought two candles, including the lavender one, and a little crystal lily they had found sitting on the shelves, all of which now lay in a little brown bag on Indilene's hands- she had insisted on carrying them. The Sun was already setting in the horizon, even though the orange and red light did not make it through the still overcast sky, only making it darker than it should have been, nearly night by now. They were now mercifully dry after spending time by the cozy fireplace, but everything outside was still dripping, large puddles of melting snow and fresh rain covering the way, making it impossible for the hems of their cloaks to remain dry.

And then they were back at the main gates, the guards there looking utterly perplexed at finding that he had left the Palace without them noticing, judging by his lack of guards following him. Nevertheless, they quickly let him through with deep respectful bows, none of them seeming to register who it was that walked with him. He walked her all the way to her family's chambers, both of them casually keeping a safe distance as they moved through the Palace's long corridors and halls, where nothing could be deduced from seeing them together. And only when he had made sure she was inside said chambers, he turned around and headed for his, walking the long way and up countless elegant staircases.

He could already feel it, the moment her spirit detached from his. The bond was still there, weak and barely starting to form, yet her spirit could not reach his through distance, just as he could not reach hers. He could not name how it felt, overwhelming, consuming, the wound in his spirit abruptly making itself known once more, the blissful relief suddenly ending, claiming the attention it had been denied of for hours. He forced himself to take steady breaths, pushing it back, trying to focus on something else, reaching to turn the doorknob into his own private chambers. But it was agony, suddenly feeling too present precisely because he had felt what it was like without it. What was left of his energy, of his powers, flickered in abrupt jolts, as if trying forcefully to reconnect with a part of him that was no longer there, that had long ago died, been depleted of all energy. It would be a bad night. One of those where it would nearly consume and not let him sleep, his arm and the little tiny hand burned on it was already starting to ache. But he did not care. Those hours, those moments where it was suddenly gone had been worth it.

"Arahaleon."

He looked up, surprised to find his father waiting for him inside his chambers. The King was standing in one corner of the room, still dressed in his formal robes of the day, the crown neatly placed on his head. He let the door close silently behind him, taking slow steps towards his father's waiting figure.

"What happened to you?" His father's brow furrowed slightly as he looked into his face, and it once again took him a second to remember the bruise spreading on his cheek, making him let out a light chuckle.

"Spider." He offered as an explanation, watching his father's icy blue eyes suddenly widen in worry.

"Spider." He repeated to his father, this time clarifying with his thumb and index finger the tiny size of said spider, watching as his father's ice blue eyes gleamed amusedly at him, an eyebrow arching on his forehead, giving him the impression that he could too easily guess what had happened.

"I still want to meet her." Was all his father said on the matter, and he decided to use the moment to unclasp his cloak and drape it across the back of an elegant chair. He knew something was wrong. Something had to be for his father to have been waiting for him in his chambers. He took another deep breath, trying to push back the pain rippling through his spirit as his unbalance energy continued jolt like electric shocks, the void making itself too known. Almost subconsciously one of his hand gripped at his tunic by his chest, as if nearly expecting that he could touch it there and rip it away from him. And his move was no unnoticed by his father.

"My son?" The tone in his father's voice had changed, suddenly alarmed, worried. And he knew that tone very well, feeling the King's gentle hands falling on his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the nearby couch, his father kneeling in front of him.

"Try to breath evenly. It will be all right. Try to think of something else." His father said softly, removing the hand that had been gripping tightly to his tunic as he always did. But of course his father could tell exactly what it was that was ailing him. The tiny handprint on his left arm was burning now, intense pain starting to ripple through his arm, almost in the bone, deep inside, his spirit and body knowing exactly that it had been the point of connection, where everything happened. He did as instructed, focusing on taking long even breaths, but the void was still there, overwhelming, screaming to him that something was missing from him. It would most definitely be a horrible night. Most of the time he was used to pushing it back, ignoring it and barely noticing it, becoming a second nature, but there were times when it really made itself known, times like this. And still, even through the agony of it, he smiled, smiled as widely as he possibly could, because all of this and more had been worth the few hours he had had without feeling it.

"Arahaelon?" His father asked again, his ice blue eyes now slightly narrowed under furrowed brow, this time worry turning into confusion, not understanding why he was smiling thus. He never smiled when the wound was acting up like this.

"I could not feel it." Was all he offered as an explanation, his voice so low it could have been a whisper, one of his hands escaping from his father's grip and returning to clutch at his tunic by his chest. And still he smiled. It had been bliss. It had been relief. He had felt like himself once again, whole and all right. "She made it disappear."

He did not explain further, focusing on taking long even breaths through the agonizing torture that was rippling inside him, the smile never once breaking from his face. But he did not need to explain further. He could see it in his father's face, in those ice blue eyes that filled with overwhelming worry every time his wound acted up, every time it hurt him. And he could see it here, in the very depths of his father's eyes, relief and joy, a faint smile breaking through his father's lips.

But the King's eyes quickly turned to worry once more, once again reaching for the hand gripping at his tunic and gently pulling it away. Long minutes passed in which his father merely studied him worriedly, waiting patiently as he took long deep breaths that did not really help at all. It would take a while for him to be able to push it all back once more, for the shards left of his spirit to calm down and the spikes of energy and power that tried to course forcefully through him to quieten. It would take hours.

"Arahaelon?" His father spoke once more, breaking the calmed silence that had settled in the elegant vast room. And he once again recognized the tone, serious and heavy, making him freeze momentarily, filling with dread. He stared at his father's face, green eyes meeting icy blue, waiting, still feeling his father's hands securely clasping both of his. "I wish to tell you something. Something that _you_ must know beforehand, ahead of anyone else."

He did not say anything, staring deeply into his father's carefully watching ice blue eyes, which seemed to be studying him intently, taking in any single reaction, looking both overly worried and at the same time apologetic, almost guilty? He nodded his head slowly, as if indicating his father to go on.

"I have received word from Imladris today." His father started, eyes still watching him with such intensity, with such worry that it made him tense in nerves, not knowing what to expect. "Legolas is returning early, will be here in approximately two days…..along with Almarëa."

"Who?" He whispered blinking a couple of times, for a second his mind turning blank, shock coursing through him. He must have heard wrong. He must have.

"Almarëa." His father repeated, the name flowing out of his mouth slowly, feeling like a ghostly presence coming to haunt him.

"She is alive, she…"He could faintly hear his father speaking, but he could not hear more than the first few words he had said. After that, all he could do was see his father's mouth moving, but no sound reached his ears. The name still rang loudly inside his name. Too loudly. Almarëa. She was alive. Almarëa was alive. But then, there had always been a tiny part of him that had never truly believed her dead, no matter what logic always told him. But she was alive. She was coming…here. His sister. His baby sister. She must be grown by now. And she must be powerful…too powerful.

He could not breathe. His face still unmoving, blank, watching as his father's mouth moved without him hearing any words. Almarëa. Coming. Suddenly it was as if the agony inside of him had intensified tenfold, the void in his spirit, that wound, suddenly crying fiercely, piercing through him as if it was brand new. He could feel it all again. Too vividly. Pain rippling through him, his spirit crying in the most torturous agony, his powers, his energy, flowing out of him at an alarming rate, too fast, without him able to control it, being taken so suddenly, so painfully, his mind flying in wild circles as pain threatened to break his head in half…

He felt dizzy, nauseous, gasping for air as the too vivid agony coursed through him once more, as if he could feel it again exactly as it had happened that day. And suddenly the pain in his arm was unbearable, the tiny handprint burning so much that he thought it was really on fire on his skin. Distantly, he could hear his father desperately calling his name, but he could barely hear it, the most overwhelming fear coursing through his body. No. It could not happen again. He could not go through it again. Another accident, another slip, would kill him.

He stood on shaky legs, rushing towards his bathing chambers, hardly conscious of his father following closely, and he barely made it to a washing basin before he heaved violently, expelling the meagre contents of his stomach. Inside of him the void seemed to pulsate too agonizingly, every inch of his spirit in torture, the wound suddenly too fresh, too raw. And it was real pain, the wound was there. And he could not breathe, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He nearly fell over once his heaves had turned into weak coughs, the world spinning wildly around him, but strong arms caught him as his trembling knees buckled, gently setting down to sit on the cold marble floor.

"Try to breathe, my son." His father's voice echoed gently on his ear, even though he could hear intense fear and worry in his father's tone, trying to get his attention, to make him focus on him instead of the torture going on inside him, and he could feel his father's arms still holding him tightly, sitting on the floor next to him, cradling like one cradles an elfling. "Try to breathe deeply. Focus on me."

He tried to listen, tried to take deep breaths, but it was not working. It felt as if his airways were constricted, the wound inside him too painful, everything being too much. It hurt as it did that first time, when it had barely just happened, and his hands shot desperately to grasp at his tunic once more, fingers nearly clawing into his skin, trying to reach that wound, that void, to rip it out of him.

"It will not happen again. It will not happen again. You are safe." His father continued to whisper gently, tender hands travelling down his hair in an attempt to calm him, and he forced himself to take deep breaths that did not reach his lungs, his fingers clutching so tightly at his tunic that he felt he would rip the fabric. His left arm hurt so much he could barely move it. "It will not happen again."

Here's the next chapter! It took a while to write because I wanted to include the shock of finding out Almarëa is alive, which for this particular character is not easy to hear…I hope you enjoy the chapter even though it has a very tense ending! Let me know what you think!

Also thank you so much to those of you who reviewed the previous chapter: helenaxo, artvandelay5001, Amsim, Visitor, Teddy0407, StarFilledSkies, and Yaulewen.

Love,

Elena


	10. Drifting

"Ar."

A soft voice echoed in the distance, the sound hazy, barely a whisper that did not quite reach him. A gentle hand shook his shoulder lightly, once again feeling slightly distant, for a second not knowing whether he was dreaming or not.

"Ar, wake up." Another gentle shake to his right shoulder, the voice sounding clearer now, right next to him.

Suppressing a groan, the Crown Prince's eyes slowly fluttered open, only then realizing they had been closed in the first place. He had to blink a couple of times in order to adjust to the dim light that filtered through the still drawn curtains, his eyes surprisingly heave. Slowly a figure came into focus directly to his right, leaning over him on the bed, smiling clear blue eyes looking at him attentively, as if ready to mock him.

"Ada wants to see you in his study." Tadion's ever light voice announced, his lips curving up into one of his characteristic smiles. "He asked me to wake you, says you have ten minutes to be down there. You are late."

Ten mi…? He suddenly sat up on the soft mattress, the move so fast that Tadion had to swiftly move his head just in time for it not to collide with his. His emerald eyes quickly scanned over his bedchambers, widening instantly at the unusually bright light that filter through the curtains. It was not the faint pink light of dawn. It was too bright.

"What is the hour?" His eyes turned to face his younger brother, the later letting out a sudden roar of laughter.

"Close to noon." Tadion replied, still chuckling teasingly with a shake of his head. "Relax, Ar. I was joking. You are not late for anything. Do you not know your own schedule?"

He let out a sigh, part of him wanting to strangle Tadion while his emerald eyes narrowed at him. His younger brother was once again roaring with laughter, the merry feeling one he could not share. And this was not the first time Tadion woke him up like this. Oh, when would his brother learn that he _did not_ find this as funny as he did?

"Ada did ask me to wake you, though." His younger brother managed to say in between chuckles, slowly rising from where he had been sitting at the bed of the mattress. "He wants to see you in his study."

The Crown Prince nodded his head in silence, taking a second to rub the sleep out of his eyes. A dull ache was already starting to make itself known on his left arm, although it was mercifully nothing compared to how much it had pained him the night before, his head pounding behind his eyes. Perhaps he should have jumped up so quickly. He should have predicted he would have a headache today.

Slowly, his eyes swept towards the long dark blue curtains covering the windows, looking at the bright midday sunrays that filtered underneath them and reflected in dim gold tones over the marble floor. It was noon, Tadion had said. So his father had allowed him to sleep through the morning.

"Are you all right?" His eyes flew once again to meet Tadion's clear blue ones, his brother's suddenly having lost all of its previous mockery. He waved off his brother's concern with an elegant movement of the hand, offering a gentle smile, the previous annoyance he had felt at the younger Prince suddenly vanishing. Tadion loved to tease him endlessly, sometimes far too much, but Tadion also worried the most whenever he was not entirely well.

"I am fine." He partially lied, but it was enough to appease the blue-eyed Prince, who merely nodded his head in return. Whether or not his brother had fully believed him he could not tell, but at least he dropped the subject. He knew Tadion had not missed the fact that he had been asleep all through the morning when he was customarily the one to rise first, always before dawn.

"I will go inform Ada that His Royal Sleepiness is finally awake." There it was once more, that endlessly teasing gleam in his brother's clear blue eyes, a wide grind crossing his face just as he made his to the door, closing it shut behind him.

He let out a silent sigh, using his fingers to carefully massage his temple for a few seconds. Slowly, he rose from the overly large bed, for the first time realizing that if was still perfectly made. He had slept over the covers, nope even pulling them down. One look down told him that he was also still wearing his robes from the day before. It took all of his concentration and willpower to keep the agonizing hollow wound in his spirit from resurfacing yet again, even though he could still feel there, painfully, more present than it usually felt most days.

Last night had been a horrible night. A cold shudder ran down his spine at the mere memory, his entire body feeling heavy, exhausted. He could not even remember when he had finally managed to fall asleep, he only knew that it had been close to dawn. Everything was a muddled haze after he had heard his father's news, the only thing constant had been the agonizing pain burning through his arm, and the torturing ripping shocks of his damaged spirit as it tried desperately to ignore that void ever present there, what was left of his unbalance energy trying forcefully to reconnect with a part of him that was long ago lost. His father had been there, though, he remembered that, for most of the night. A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered that. His father had remained awake too, and yet he was already up and working as regularly, probably since dawn.

He made his way towards the long elegant desk close to one corner of his bedchambers, his thoughts unusually a confusing mess that he could not make sense of. His hand pulled open the third drawer of the desk, a little too brusquely, but he did not care. All he cared about suddenly was about finding it. It was here, he knew it. It had always been here. His fingers quickly sorted trough he high pile of parchments he kept carefully stored in that drawer, not even looking at the drawings as he flipped through them, trying to find that precise paper…There.

His fingers were slightly less steady than usual, carefully placing the aging parchment over the desk, his eyes studying the old drawing. Almarëa. His youngest sister. His emerald eyes slowly swept through every lines, studying the figure he remembered all too clearly. On the page, a smiling baby was being held by his mother, the Queen, the child grasping one of the Queen's golden locks in her tiny hand. He remembered that day, when he had drawn it, remembered it almost too well. There was no color on the drawing, but he did not need it, recalling all too plainly his sister's golden baby curls, and her eyes, her large forest green eyes.

She was alive. So many years believing her dead, and she had been alive all along. No. He had never truly believed her dead, even though he had accepted that she must have been. How would she look now? Like their mother most probably. His baby sister had always resembled her. Did she even know she had other siblings? She would not remember any of them. She had been too young. How he had missed her. Where had she been? How had she survived? The handprint on his left arm burned all the more painfully, as if reminding him once again of its presence there, and he closed his eyes for a second, struggling to push the pain of that void in his spirit back again, to remain in control. Perhaps she would not remember the accident ever happened. He clung to that though almost desperately. He hoped she did not remember. He did not want that to get in the way once again, did not ever want to see the sorrow in her large green eyes looking at him as he had seen right after the accident, when had suddenly become more distant with her than he had ever been. But she had been only a baby, and she could not control it. He had needed to be more careful, more distant. Another accident and he would not have survived. But now….would things be different?

He shook his head, forcing his wondering thoughts to the back of his mind, his head still pounding painfully. All he wanted was to return to his bed and sleep some more, every inch of his body feeling exhausted. It was always like this afterwards, whenever the wound in his spirit acted up and became too much for him to handle it. He was always drained the following day, his limbs feeling weary and heavy.

Deciding not to make his father wait too long, he made his way to the bathing chambers in long strides, not even paying attention as he picked out a set of robes to wear for the day. He wanted to wear a simple tunic and leggings, but he did not know what it was father wanted from him in his study, and if it was a meeting he needed to attend, then he better be wearing dress robes. He stopped momentarily as he gazed at his reflection on the long mirror. There were angry pink lines stretching from below his neck and disappearing underneath the collar of his robes from the day before. So he had clawed at his own skin the night before in a desperate attempt to rip that wound from inside his chest. He would need to wear robes with a high collar that day. His mind was so distracted he did not even notice bathing and changing, leaving his hair down and unbraided before walking out into the long elegant corridors of the Palace.

He knew the way to his father' study by heart, his feet walking there almost on their own, barely even registering the few greetings he received from the elves that crossed his path. He did not need to knock on the majestic pair of doors of the study once he arrived, the guards flanking the entrance immediately letting him in without question.

"You called me?" He asked as he stepped into the too familiar room, his voice holding that calmed tone it always carried.

His father looked up from the elegant large desk, looking as regal and tall as ever in his pale gold robes and crown of silver leaves. Icy blue eyes studied him carefully for a long moment, gentle, concerned, not the eyes of the King but of his Ada.

"You dressed formally?" One of his father's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, ice blue eyes following him as he approached the desk.

"I did not know what to expect." Was all he replied, watching his father nod his head in silent understanding. A pale hand motioned towards the high backed chair in front of the desk, and he did not need to be told with words, patiently lowering himself on the chair that seemed to almost unofficially belong to him. He was sure no other elf spend as much time in this study sitting here as he did.

"I should have told your brother to tell you to dress as you wished." His father spoke, although it appeared as though he was speaking more to himself than to his eldest son. Still his words did not go unnoticed, and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow, looking at his father slightly puzzled.

"I cancelled the meeting with the Captains this afternoon." His father explained shortly with an elegant wave of the hand. "And you are excused from attending the Council before that."

"You are letting me off for the day?" He pointed out, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. It was what his father had said. He was free for the day. That was unusual. Even though he sporadically allowed him a free afternoon, his father only excused him for the day whenever he was injured. And still he did not miss the way in which his father's silent powerful eyes were studying him carefully, looking at him with concern. "What did you summon me for?"

His father's eyes were soft, still looking at him carefully for a few long seconds. "I wished to know how you fared today. And if I let you sleep any longer then you would not sleep tonight."

"I am fine." He said, even though he knew his father did not believe him. And there it was again, that worried glean in the depths of the King's ice blue eyes. Once again he was very much aware of the tiredness assaulting him, and of the painful pounding behind his eyes, but he did not show it. And yet, there was no point in hiding it either. Of course his father knew. His father always knew.

Still the King only nodded his head once, not pressing the matter. His father also knew him all too well to know that pressing the subject would not make him open up in the slightest.

"Would you like me to call for Melnor?" His father offered, seeming to be able to read through him all too easily.

"No." He said stubbornly, even though for a second summoning the healer did not seem as such a bad idea. He would be able to get him something for the merciless headache.

Once again his father nodded, not pushing the subject any more than necessary. A harsh wind pushed against the crystals of the long windows, making them rattle violently for a few seconds. Outside, the bright golden sunlight washed over the labyrinthine gardens and forest beyond, still ever green, even though the winter temperatures were below freezing point at the time. The only indication of the cold outside was the fain layer of frost growing over the window crystals and the violent wind that always seemed to picked up close to Winter's Solstice.

"Was that all?" He asked, his emerald eyes looking at his father in slight puzzlement. He knew there was more to it. His father would not call him privately to his study to ask how he was feeling. If that had been the only thing then his father would have walked himself to his chambers and ask him there.

"I was hoping we could talk." His father finally got to the point, his voice always so calmed, soft, yet powerful. "We did not get a chance last night. How are you, my son?"

So that was it. Of course. Part of him had already known it. Almarëa. That was what his father wanted to talk about.

"I am fine." He lied again, those uncontrollable feelings once again taking over him, joy, pain, fear. And anger. Anger at his father's careful eyes studying him so meticulously, anger at himself for having reacted the night before just as his father had anticipated he would. But he had not been able to control it. He could still feel it, once again taking all of his concentration to push it back once more, that pain ripping through his injured spirit, that void all too present.

"It will not happen again, Arahaelon." His father's soft voice spoke lowly, gentle eyes still watching him carefully, almost comfortingly. "There will not be a second accident. I will not let it happen."

It was a lie. He knew his father wanted to be comforting to reassure him, but they both knew there was no way of controlling it. There had been no way in controlling when it happened the first. That was what it had been, an accident.

"I said I am _fine_." He repeated, his calmed voice betraying a little of his short temper, slightly colder than usual. But his father did not seem surprised at all, as if he had also been expecting that exact reaction. But they both knew that getting him to talk and open up when angered would lead nowhere. Tadion and Lossenel would rage in fury, and Legolas would be an open book carefully explaining anything that was bothering and why, but he, he was just silent.

Another nod, his father once again not pressing the matter, even though he did not entirely let it go. Long seconds of silence stretched through the ample elegant room, the only sound being the occasional shudder of the crystals as the freezing wind abused them. He started to lift a hand to his aching forehead, but stopped midway, placing it back down on his lap, but his father that already noticed.

He watched the King sigh silently, calling out a name that had one of the guards at the doors immediately stepping into the room.

"You called, my Lord?" The tall guard asked the second he stepped inside, bowing his head once respectfully.

"Fetch Melnor, please." His father instructed, but he knew there was no point in protesting. The healer would be summoned whether he wanted it or not. The guard wasted no time in following his new orders, quickly nodding his head and exiting the room once more, closing the door behind him, once again leaving the two royals in complete silence.

"I am-

"You are fine." His father finished for him, in a tone that told him his father had not believed his words even for a second. "You have already said so, my son."

He took a deep breath, his eyes drifting to look out at the freezing gardens. There was not a single elf out there, the trees swaying forcefully against the cold bitter wind. His head pounded all the more painfully, and he was silently grateful that the healer had been called, even though he would not admit it. All he wanted to do was to lie down and return to sleep.

"Will you tell her?" His eyes did not return to look at his father as he spoke the question that had been nagging his mind for hours now. Btu he did not need to look at his father to know the older elf had perfectly understood precisely what he meant. He hoped she did not remember. And if she did not, then he did not want her knowing, not yet. He did not want that getting in the way of finally knowing her. He would be careful, but she did not need to know just yet, she did not need to feel she had done anything wrong. It had been an accident.

"Not if you do not wish me to." His father's gentle voice replied, but that was all he needed to hear. "She will need to know eventually, though."

"Not yet." Was all he said. He did not hear a reply from his father, so he guessed the King must have simply nodded his head in silence.

The short silence was broken by a soft knock on the pair of large wooden doors, the head healer entering the piece at the King's command.

"You asked for me, Your Majesty?" The dark haired healer inclined his head, taking a few steps closer to the desk. And still, much to his annoyance, his father's slender fingers elegantly motioned in his direction, letting the healer know that he was the intended patient.

"How may I help, My Lord?" The healer's eyes turned in his direction, and he understood that he was expected to specify what he needed. For a second he was about to stress that he was fine once again, but the merciless hammering inside his head made him think otherwise.

"Headache." He admitted at last, his voice that perfectly calmed sound he had mastered so long ago, his expression entirely serene. If he had not spoken it the healer he knew the healer would have never guessed there was anything ailing him. He was exhausted, every single inch of his body feeling utterly and completely drained, but he knew there was nothing the healer could do about that.

"I will bring something immediately, Your Highness." The healer bowed once before leaving the room, a long second of silence stretching once more through the room.

"How long have you known?" He finally asked, not able to contain that question any longer, and even though his voice remained calmed and quiet, he was not able to hide a slightly accusing tone from showing in it. How long had his father known and never told them? Would he have ever told them had the circumstances been different? If Almarëa were not currently on her way to the Palace, would he have ever found out his younger sister was alive?

"Some years now." His father admitted, gentle eyes looking directly at him, stained with sorrow. Some years. So his father had kept it quiet all these years. "She was an elfling when I found out she had lived, but no longer an infant."

So many questions rushed through his mind, but he kept them quiet, anger and pain rushing through his body furiously. His sister had been alive all this time. And he had never gotten to know her. His other siblings did not even know she was alive yet.

"And you did not bring her back home?" The accusation in his voice nearly made him flinch, but his father did not falter, as if he had once again expected his anger. Still he did not lose his temper, his voice always calmed, soft, yet cold. She should have been brought back to her home! With the rest of her family! "You… _left_ her?"

For the first time his father flinched, almost imperceptibly, and he momentarily regretted his accusing cold tone. He had touched on a painful spot, he could tell. But still he could not understand how his father had left his baby sister and not brought her back to her home? In a second, his previous anger vanished, replaced instead by a pain that wracked so deep that it was almost torture. His father would never have left Almarëa without it being one of the most painful things he could do in his long life. It could not have been easy. He knew. And yet another feeling pooled inside his stomach. Guilt. A guilt so deep that it felt almost consuming.

"It was safe that way." His father's voice was a perfect mask of serenity, and he knew that whatever the King was feeling he was not letting it through. "It was the best."

"Safe…" He started, his voice for the first time shaking, all previous anger lost from it. No, he could not finish that question. If it was by any chance what he feared, he would never be able to bear the guilt. But he needed to know. He needed to know that he had not been by any chance the cause of his sister needing to stay away from the Palace. He knew there had been other reasons. Valar, he still remembered that horrible night when everything had changed. He knew that must be the main reason, only thinking about it made him shudder. But he could not bear the thought that perhaps _he_ had been a slight reason why. "Safe for her…..or safe for me?...was it because of me? Because of what happened?"

"No." His father added quickly, that previous composed mask immediately vanishing, ice blue eyes looking directly at him, forcing him to look in his direction. "It was not because of you, my son. The blame is not on you. It was safest for her. I would do anything to protect you, just as I would do anything to protect her, and all of your siblings. Do not think for once that you were one of the reasons I kept her hidden, that blame is not on you."

"Promise me that." He said, his emerald eyes fixed on his father, serious. "Promise me that neither you, nor _anyone_ , will _ever_ make her feel as though she is a danger to me. Do not ever let her feel that my safety will _ever_ go before her. _Never._ She never did anything wrong, no matter what many in this realm may think. She does not need that weight on her shoulders, she does not need to blame herself for anything.

"You know I have never blamed any of you for what happened." His father's voice was soft as he spoke yet he did not miss the faint pain that crossed his eyes, as if his words had hurt him more than he would admit. "I will never place any of you before another."

"I know that." He said, and it was truth, there was nothing he was surer of than about that. And he let his father see the honesty in his eyes. "But make sure everyone knows that….make sure _she_ knows that. And if…..if it happens again, do not let her blame herself for that either. Do not let her fear her own powers."

His father nodded his head, a gentle hand falling softly over his shoulder. However, blessedly, the head healer chose that moment to return to the room, quickly walking in and handing him a hot steaming cup before retiring with a last respectful bow. He held the cup in his hands for a while, the heat seeping through his cold fingers comfortingly. He could already pick up the smell of the pain relieving herbs in the tea, the pounding in his head once again reminding him that he needed it.

"Will they be here tomorrow?" He phrased it as a question but he already knew the answer. His father had mentioned it they night before.

"Yes." His father added curtly, his soft eyes still studying him carefully, concerned. "They have already crossed the borders."

"I will lead the patrol that will receive them." He left no space for argument in his request. He never did that, never decided on which patrols he would go, always obediently following whichever decision his father made. But he could not contain his request. He needed to see her. Needed to at least through a glance in her direction, to look at her face, her large green eyes. Would she even remember him at all? He needed to at least see her safely into the Palace.

"Very well." His father agreed without any quarrel, nodding his head curtly once more, silence settling heavily once again in the room.

"Is there anything else you need me for, Ada?" He broke the silence, suddenly no longer wishing to stay in this room, too many thoughts and questions plaguing his mind.

"No, my son." His father sigh, leaning back on the tall elegant chair in a way he only ever did when in the presence of his family. "You may go."

It was his turn to nod his head, not adding anything, silently rising to his feet. His father's gentle blue eyes threw one last glance at him, still eyeing him partially concerned, lingering slightly on the untouched cup still on his hands.

"Drink that." His father commanded with a pointed look. "It will help."

He nodded in understanding, even though the slight movement made a new jolt of pain smash through his already hurting head. Standing up had not been such a great idea, his body once again reminding him how utterly tired and weary he felt, wanting to simply drop back down on the chair. But he did not show it. He turned around to leave the room, but suddenly stopped, remembering another thing he had needed to do that day.

"Do you need the reports for-

"Not today." His father interrupted him with a small smile, lifting an elegant hand to halt his speaking. "You will not get any calculations straight right now. Rest and drink that tea. Call Melnor if you need anything else….or I will."

"Of course." He replied, even though they both knew he would not be calling the healer no matter how bad his headache worsened.

Turning around on exhausted legs, he quickly left the room in elegant strides, his long deep violet robes trailing behind him. Suddenly the garments felt too heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to reach his chambers and change into lighter clothes.

But he did not go there, suddenly climbing up all the set of marble stairs seeming like a too grand task to accomplish at the moment. Instead, he slowly made his way through the corridors he knew like the pal of his hand, heading towards the ample private terraces. Just as he had anticipated, they were empty. It was too cold to be outside in the gardens, and the terraces, being so open, were not precisely the most comfortable place to be during this bisque winter day. But they were quiet. And that was what he had been looking for.

Silently, he lowered himself on one of the long chaises, his preferred one, leaning back against the soft cushions. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the worse of the hammering in his head to lessen at little at the movement. Slowly, he sipped from the cup, his nose wrinkling slightly at the bitter taste. No matter how many teas Melnor had given him in his life, he would never get used to the taste. He only drank close to half before he set it down, the taste and his headache combined making him nauseous. Instead, he lay down on the chaise, on his back, closing his eyes for a moment. Nobody would come looking for him here.

The freezing wind made the braches sway loudly, the leaves rustling against one another with a lulling sound. The melody reached his ears, softly, calming, the soft chant that was ever so familiar filing his ears with its tune. The trees were singing. A feeble smile grew on his face, so faint he did not even know if it was there for sure. He could almost feel it, as if it was real, even though he knew it was a distant memory, never to happen to again. But still he could feel it in his mind, recalling exactly that warmth that spread through all of his body, that power so grand yet so gently with him coursing through his veins and latching to his spirit, how it had allowed him to wield it, the trees stretching and twisting at his will, the forest speaking to him, letting him in. It would never happen again. But at least he could still hear them.

Could they fell Almarëa? She had already crossed the borders, which meant she was already inside the realm. Could the trees sense her power? Were they talking to her? Could she hear them sing? Would he be able feel her presence if he tried to reach out? Perhaps. But he could not do that, a new wave of fear coursing through him at the through, the void in his spirit suddenly becoming to present again, making concentrate for a few seconds in order to push it back and ignore it once more.

"Ar?"

The soft voice took him by surprise, his eyes blinking open a couple of times at that sound he would recognize anywhere. His emerald eyes quickly landed on her, standing close to where he lay yet not too close, and it was impossible for his lips not to curve up slightly. He would never get used to her calling him by that shortened name, finding out that he liked how it sounded in her melodic voice. He had not even heard her approach.

Her large hazel eyes were looking at him tenderly, patiently, and he did not miss the faint worry so evidently visible there. She was always an open book, never shying away for showing her emotions, a thing that he partially did not understand. "You did not hear me arriving. What troubles you?"

Of course. She was always so attentive, perhaps one of the very few elves in the Palace would could read through him at all. He sat up on the chaise, his eyes never able to leave her figure.

"Just…things…" He replied vaguely, not knowing how to answer that question and at the same time not wanting to answer it. But she did not push it. She never pushed it, as if she could perfectly understand when to give him time in order to collect his thoughts and answer her.

His forest green eye motioned towards the space on the chaise next to him, and she understood his silent invitation, slowly waltzing in his direction and lowering herself next to him. She was so tiny. Tall, yet incredibly tiny. His fingers could wrap twice around her bony little wrists. And yet he could feel it again, her spirit so close to his, that weak starting bond making itself known once more. Her spirit reached for his, but he pulled away almost immediately, the angry wound making itself too known once more. She pulled away the second he had done it, her hazel looking through his for a short moment in silence, once again not pushing it.

"Not today." Was all he said, offering her an apologetic smile, but she merely nodded her head, not asking for more details. Her spirit reaching his had been bliss the day before, it had been the relief he had believed he would never get. But it had been difficult enough afterwards, once the presence of the wound returned. And today, he would not be able to handle that, not after the news he had received last night and the way in which the wound had acted up again. It was too tender. But of course she would know. If she could feel his spirit the same way he felt hers, then she would instantly know the wound was bothering him. It was impossible to miss it.

"Lay back down." She spoke softly, motioning for him to lay his head on her lap, and for a second he did not move. Her soft hazel eyes continued to look at him patiently, ever understanding, and yet he obeyed. He did not know why it was so easy when only weeks ago he would have tensed at the suggestion of losing his precious physical distance.

Slowly he lay back down on the chaise, silently grateful to rest his head again, now softly cradled on her lap. One of his hands lifted over his forehead, shielding his closed eyes from the bright light. Pretenses be dammed around her. He did not mind if she knew he had a headache, he would not hide anything from her.

"I still have your outer robe." Her gentle musical voice spoke, and he could almost hear the sheepish smile on her face. "From yesterday. I forgot to return it."

He knew that. He remembered it perfectly. He had placed the garment over her shoulders at the little shop back in town, but had never asked for it back. And he did not intend to do let out a single chuckle, even though he did not open his eyes.

"Do you intend to return it?" He questioned her, although he knew he would not wear the garment again. Not after she had worn it so beautifully.

"Do you need it?"

He let out another quiet laugh at her words, although he did not lift his hand from his eyes.

"You may keep it." He said, feeling the closeness of her spirit like a lulling calming aura.

"I cannot _keep_ it!" She whispered almost exasperatedly, letting out one of her free rounds of giggles that floated in the air like a gentle morning dew.

"Why not?" He asked, slightly confused at her words.

"Are you aware that your robes have the royal emblem embroidered on the inside? On the back? Just below the neckline?" She detailed, her words making his hand lift from eyes in order to look at her face. "I cannot keep royal robes! What if anyone found them?"

"You inspected them?" He raised an eyebrow at her, knowing that she must have scrutinized the garment meticulously to find the embroidery on the inside. The embroidery was there for the servants, for them to know who the pieces belonged to and return them to the correct chambers after being washed.

"The pockets were empty." She added with a shrug, as if that had been the most disappointing part, making him chuckle amusedly again.

"And what were you expecting to find there?" He asked incredulously, placed his hand over his eyes again, the bright light of the day making his headache worsen. But he was surprisingly comfortable there, feeling the warmth of her body so close to his, his aching head mercifully cradled calmly on her lap.

"I do not know." He felt her shrug once more, feeling the slight shift in her delicate body, and he resisted the urge to shake his head at her. It ached too much for that. "Something important…official. Something Princely."

"Something Princely?" He knew could see his arched eyebrow underneath his hand, the words sounding too ridiculously amusing to him. "Please do tell me, what is something Princely?"

"I do not know." She shrugged again. "I am not a Prince so you tell me?"

He let out a light laugh in return, starting to shake his head almost involuntarily, but stopping almost immediately when the ache returned.

"Do you need the robes back then?" She repeated her first question, the smile never leaving his face at her ever light and warm tone. He did not even know how to answer that question, for he had already answered her that exact same question.

"You may keep them. They are yours." He repeated the same thing he had previously said, listening to the soft cold breeze that once again made the leaves outside ruffle.

"I told you I cannot _keep_ them!" She added with a light round of giggles, feigning being scandalized at the notion. Why was she being so confusing?

"Very well…then I need them back?" He changed his answer, trying to see if this was perhaps the answer he had been supposed to give in the first place?

"You really do?" She asked him, her voice sounding a little disillusioned at the prospect of departing from the robes. But he had already told her she could keep them!

"No, I do not need them." He told her with a light chuckle, fighting hard once again to not shake his head.

"Can I burrow them?"

Burr…borrow? He dropped the hand covering his eyes in order to look at her, his eyes narrowed in her direction. What? He could not contain his laugh once again, trying to understand how her mind worked yet failing completely. "You wish to burrow something you _have already burrowed_? You already have them."

"I am merely asking if I may burrow them for a little longer." She specified, that smile so soft, so warm, adorning her perfectly angled face.

"How much longer?" He teased her, not really caring what happened to the garment in the first place. In his head, it was already hers.

"An indefinite amount of time."

"So, you wish to _keep_ them." He concluded, smiling at the way in which her exasperated eyes narrowed in his direction. She opened her mouth to protest again but he stopped her, unable to contain his smile at her confusing conversation.

"You would like to burrow the robes you already have for an indefinite amount of time, but you do not wish to keep them?" He asked her again, raising an eyebrow at how ridiculous his own words sounded. That beautiful smile never left her face, reaching her large honey colored eyes which were fixed on him.

"Yes." She laughed, nodding her head once. Her long ashen hair brushed her shoulder as she moved, the plain single silver pin holding it away from her face catching the bright golden sunlight and exploding it in thousand sparkles. "May I?"

"All right." He agreed, once gain shaking his head lightly and immediately regretting it. He could not have cared less about the robes, but if she wanted to believe she was merely _burrowing_ them, then he would let her believe that.

"What do you intend to do with them?" He asked curiously, not understanding why she would like to keep the garment. If was not as if she would be wearing it. His right hand returned to rest over his eyes, trying to ease the pain that had intensified at the few seconds in the bright light.

"I have no idea." She laughed lightly, even though he noticed her voice has dropped to only a faint whisper, as if not to aggravate his headache. Sher had not been speaking loudly in the first place, her voice always so soft. "Perhaps I will practice my sewing there."

"Your sewing?" It was impossible not to laugh at the thought, the image of that horrid disfigure bluebird that he had caught her embroidering some weeks ago once again popping into his head. He still had it, carefully saved in his chambers. "You cannot sew."

Her beautiful laughter filled the terraces, floating like soft rose petals on the cold breeze, momentarily making all pain and exhaustion vanish from his body at the mere joyful sound.

"No." Indilene giggled, and he could feel the slight shift in her body as she most probably shook her head. "I cannot sew."

She had not even like doing it. He remembered her annoyed expressions at completing the task that her aunt had asked her to practice. He felt delicate gentle fingers slide once through his hair, the gesture more comforting and helping than the healer's bitter tea had been. He almost instantly reached for the hand with his left one, his right still safely placed over his eyes. Although blindly, his fingers found hers with surprising ease, intertwining with them as if they belonged there. Unable to contain himself, he reached her hand to his mouth, placing a small kiss on the soft skin of her palm before lowering both of their hands to rest on his chest, his fingers no letting go of hers.

"Ar?" Her soft musical voice had lost all trace of the previous light mirth that had accompanying it, and he did not need to see to know that endless honey eyes would be looking at him intently. "Why do you not go lie down and rest properly?"

"No." Was all he said, but she did not insist. He did not wish to move. All of his limbs already felt too heady and drained, and he was so comfortable there, more than she could even begin to imagine. Not even his bed and all of the soft feather pillows could ever compare to how her simple presence there felt.

"At least let us go somewhere darker?" She suggested as his thumb gently danced over the back of her hand. Of course she could tell the light was not helping.

"No." He said gently once more, and cone again she did not insist, merely letting out a soft sight that he almost wondered if it was directed at him and his stubbornness.

"Here." She added faintly, and next thing he knew he was feeling her shift slightly, her free hand slowly lowering the hand that had been covering his eyes, and letting it rest once again of the cushions. And then she placed something else over his eyes, a cloth? No, a handkerchief? TI most be the later, he could feel the intricate embroidery in the delicate linen cloth which now lay neatly folded over his eyes. It smelled like her. "Rest your arm for a while."

"Where did you get that?" He asked, even his voice was so low he barely heard it. Had she been carrying it the whole time and he had missed it?

"I _do_ carry things in my pockets." She added, and he did not need to look to hear the smile on her face, or the gleam in her honey colored eyes.

He let out a single quiet chuckle, somehow feeling more exhausted than before now that he did not need to hold up his hand to his eyes. The song of the forest filled the air once more with its lulling soft tune, and for a second he wished Indilene could hear how it sounded.

And yet, his mind was once again drifting towards the forest, towards Almarëa. Where were she and Legolas now? Were they close? Or still somewhat far? Had they run into eventualities out in the forest? What would it be like once she arrived? They did not know her. She was their sister and yet they did not know her at all. And Lossenel…Lossenel would not take the news easily.

"Ar?" Indilene's quiet whisper made suddenly realize that a long second of silence had stretched through them, his mind starting to drift off, even though his thoughts were too rumbled to allow him to sleep. And still he did not miss the faint worry edged in the musical sound. He was being more distracted than usual, than he ever really was.

"My sister is alive…. Almarëa is alive." He heard himself saying, the voice sounding strange, barely even audible. He did not know why he had spoken the words, but they tasted strange on his tongue. And it was then he realized that he had needed to hear them out loud, to hear them coming from himself to make them feel finally completely real. He did not know why he was confiding in her, he, the one distant one, the one who liked his privacy. And yet, there was nobody else he wished to tell more at the moment.

For a long second Indilene remained silent, and he was silently grateful for that, patiently waiting for him to elaborate or to add anything else, or to even let her know he was expecting some kind of answer. Btu the soft silence was comforting enough. He did not wish to talk about it. He did not wish to be asked thousands of questions that he could not answer. And she seemed to understand that perfectly, not adding anything in return. He had just needed to say it, needed to hear it, to let her know. He was not even sure if Indilene knew much about Almarëa, she had been only an elfling when his sister had been pronounced dead. But it was common knowledge in the Kingdom.

And yet, she did not comment, she did not ask, did not even say anything in return. All he received was a slight comforting squeeze of his fingers, and he gripped hers tighter in return. and that was all he needed, better than any words, than any endless questions. He would talk properly to her later, by now, now he could not even gather his thoughts enough to make sense of them.

The soft lulling tune of the trees continued to dance over the ample terraces, making his exhausted mid drift once more. Perhaps he could manage to sleep if he tried? It was tempting, all his body feeling heavy, tired, already drifting off to oblivion. He could barely recall the following minutes. Or was it hours? And yet, all he knew was that he was so comfortable there, his body and mind suddenly letting down any guard, completely relaxing there, with her presence so close to his, and for a second everything was haze, the soft warm sounds and gentle breeze slowly cradling him away into restful sleep, the last thing he was aware of was of her hand still in his, her spirit always so close….

Hi there! I know it has been like forever since last chapter, but here is the next one! I hope it makes up for the long wait! It's a little tense, but discovering that your long dead powerful sister is suddenly alive and returning home is not a thing you hear everyday haha anyway I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think!

Also thank you so so very much to all of you who left comments on the previous chapter! I loved reading through your thoughts and interpretations of the chapter! Thranduil's fan, artvandelay5001, Mystifying Roses, Saum the Smol Teddy, Amsim, and helenaxo.

Love,

Elena


	11. Winter Breeze

Her fingers trailed down his long silvery hair, smoothing out the silky strands in gentle strokes. Of course he could not feel it, but she could not care less. A faint smile drew on her lips as her left hand's fingers trailed one more down his hair. He had fallen asleep. Just like that, so easily, all his guard had tumbled down and he had drifted off. It had barely been, what? An hour? Two hours? She could not tell, but she did not care, not even minding as her legs started to become numb from the slight weight of his head resting comfortably on her lap.

The freezing winter breeze toyed with her loose strands of ash colored hair, sticking them to her face, but she did not lift a hand to push the away. Her right hand was still safely held in his, and she did not dare move it for fear of waking him. Not that she ever wanted to move than hand, in any case. Outside, through the thin arcade of twisting columns that separated the terrace from the vast Palace's Gardens, the trees swayed and ruffled at the cold wind, their leaves still as green as the summer, even through the coat of ice that had started to cover them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, a smile drawing on her face as she felt his resting spirit so close to hers, suddenly peaceful and calmed when hours ago it had been ruled by turmoil. Her cotton handkerchief still rested over his face, covering his stunning emerald eyes from view, and she wondered whether or not a few hours of sleep would help at all with his headache. She could still feel the wound, too overwhelmingly present, impossible to miss. Not, not wound. She did not really know how to call it, what exactly it was, but it was always there, ever since the first time her spirit felt his, as if part of him was missing, part of his spirit broken, injured. It had to be painful, perhaps even more than merely painful. She had suspected it from the first time she had felt it, but now she was sure. She did not know how such a wound could have happened, could not even imagine it. And yet, so many other things were suddenly clearer to her, why it had taken him so long to even allow her spirit to get close to his, why he had pushed her spirit away in so many occasions.

And there was that mark as well, the one he had not wanted her to see, not until yesterday. He had pulled his arm away from her hands so quickly that she still wondered how she managed to hide her surprise. But he had shown it to her, just when she had been determined to pretend she had not seen anything, he had shown it to her. Such a tiny mark that at first she could barely see it before it became increasingly clear it was there. A handprint. A child's handprint, judging by the size. She had not asked questions, but she did not need to ask to know that whatever had caused the wound in his spirit had also left that mark upon his arm. Elves did not scar, and for a mark to be permanently left on his flesh, the wound must have needed to be far worse than physical….and it had been.

And then, there was that power….that unyielding strength that she had felt in his spirit, hiding just behind the tearing wound, and yet still there, although broken. She even wondered if he even knew it was there? If he could feel it at all, or if the pain of the wound was too much for him to look even deeper inside? But there was power in him, or at least there had been at some point, power beyond anything she had ever felt or imagined existed, almost like…magic. The King wielded old magic. That was common knowledge among elves. But no matter how much she tried she could not once remember ever seeing or hearing about the Crown Prince doing the same. But then again, nobody talked about that.

The wind rustled the frozen leaves once more, a flock of birds dashing to the air form a nearby branch once if shook. On her lap Arahaelon stirred, moving his head slightly to the side, but he did not wake. She let out a single quiet chuckle, her left hand not moving again down his hair until she was sure the movement would not wake him. If anyone would have told her that she would be sitting here, in this terrace, with the Crown Prince sleeping peacefully with his head resting on her lap, she would have never believed it. Not the Crown Prince. He had always been so distant, so regal and serene that she would never have believed he would ever allow himself to fall asleep in the presence of others. And yet here he was. Here she was. He was still a mystery to her, and she was somehow known that no matter how much she knew him, nobody would ever fully know what was going through his mind, that mind that seemed to never stop thinking, quicker than knew he would ever let on, or fully read through his emerald eyes, that missed nothing, seeming to see things her very own eyes could not.

Her head snapped up at faint sound of light footsteps entering the terrace. Blood rushed to her face the second her eyes landed on the tall elegant figure standing just at the entrance of the terrace, and, Valar, she was eternally grateful that elves did not blush.

"Your Majesty."

A pair of piercing ice blue eyes met hers, belonging to none other than her King himself, standing royal and powerful just a couple of feet away from her, closer than he had ever been in her life. His long pale gold robes brushed the marble floor as he moved, reflecting the shimmer of the winter's sun outside, his waterfall of long silvery hair perfectly braided underneath the Mirkwood Crown of silver leaves. Her first reacting was to rise to her feet, as anyone should in the presence of the King, but she stopped herself before she moved, torn in between proper manners or waking Arahaelon. And, oh, Eru, she was suddenly so _very_ aware of _his son's_ sleeping head resting on her lap.

However, the King stopped her even before she had the chance to make a decision, one of his hands elegantly rising up in the air and indicating her to stay sitting down. She swallowed once, her body suddenly stiff with nerves. She watched the King's eyes drift to his son's figure before meeting hers again, and, valar, never before had wanted more to be invisible. However, whatever it was the King was thinking, she could not tell, his face ever so calm and patient.

"Is he asleep?" The Elvenking whispered, stopping to stand only a couple of feet from where she was sitting, one pale hand pointing in Arahaelon's direction. She nodded her had as a reply, not really trusting her voice to speak.

"Should I….?" She started, her voice as low as she could manage without waking Arahaelon, but once again the King stopped her before she could finish her question.

"No." He said, waving an elegant hand at her question. "Let him sleep. I will find him later."

"Tell him to go over these tonight. It is important." The Elvenking added as he placed a thin stack of papers he had been carrying over a nearby table, placing a small heavy ornamental figure over them so that the wind would not blow them away.

She nodded her head once more, indicating that she had understood, her voice once again having abandoned her, still wishing to disappear. But the King did not say anything else, merely elegantly turning on his heels and leaving the terrace as calmly as he had arrived, leaving her there with her heart still racing with nerves on her chest. Valar, the King knew. He did not know why but she had never even thought about the King everm knowing that she had been seeing the Crown Prince for some time now. She had worried about her aunt and uncle knowing, about the rest of the elves finding out, about the other Princes and the Princess, but the King had never crossed her mind….and it did not make it any easier to know that he was none other than _Arahaleon's father_.

As if he had somehow felt her body stiffen and her nerves rising, the Crown Prince stirred on the chaise, letting out a puff of warm air through his nose that she felt even through the silk of her dress. He was awake. Just was she had wanted to avoid. His left hand lifted slowly to his face, pulling away her handkerchief only to reveal those stunning forest green eyes blinking hazily at the light, still partially asleep. He looked around him for a second, partially confused, as if only then remembering where he was or what it was he was doing there, making it impossible for her to hold back a giggle.

"I fell asleep?" He asked, his voice still hoarse with sleep, barely audible to her ears. His piercing emerald eyes met hers, and suddenly all of her previous nerves were gone, everything else disappearing into those endless welcoming eyes, greener than the summer leaves.

"You did." She laughed at his confused expression, one that she was sure very few elves in the Palace had ever seen. "You can go back to sleep, if you wish."

She had not wanted him to wake up just yet, wanting him to rest for a least a few more hours, but he only waved his hand at her words, the gesture resembling too much the one the king had made only minutes before.

"How's your headache?" She asked as he pushed himself up to sit on the chaise, tingles running down her numb legs from now lifted weight of his head.

"Better." He smiled, that faint smile that managed to touch his eyes. He brushed a strand of his light blond hair from his perfectly angled face, placing it behind a pale pointed ear. His long formal robes were now visible wrinkled as he sat up, a sight incredibly unusual to her, making her smile wider.

"This," He lifted her white handkerchief for her to see, still held in his left hand. "I intend to keep."

"And what do I get in return?" She laughed, unable to look away from his pearly grin and emerald eyes. He was in a good mood. Sleeping had certainly helped him.

"You already have my robes." He pointed out, and she closed her mouth at his answer, for a second short of what to say in return. And he seemed to notice that, for his grin only grew wider on his face.

"Fair trade." She agreed, even though she would give him all of the handkerchiefs she owned if he wanted them too.

"Your father was here." She mentioned, throwing him a long meaningful look, but for a second he looked at her in confusion.

"Did he say what for?" Was all he asked, not seeming to share any of the nerves and anxiety that she herself was feeling.

"He left those for you." She replied, pointing to the thin stack of papers lying on the nearby table waiting for him. "Said you should go over them tonight."

He made a face, her laughter echoing in the silent winter air at the uncharacteristic expression. On those moments, where there was nobody else but the two of them it was as if he became a different person, as if that wall of calmness and silence that always seemed to surround him vanished, revealing a side of him that she wondered how many elves even knew existed.

"He said they were important." She added, not wanting to leave out any part of the message.

"They always are." He shrugged, but nonetheless stood up and made his way towards the round table, his wrinkled robes trailing elegantly behind him. She stayed where she was, watching his tall figure picking up the stack of papers, eyes running through them quickly in silence. Whatever those documents were, they were not for her eyes.

After a few seconds he walked back to where she sat, lowering himself next to her and dropping the pile of papers on his lap.

"What are they?" She asked, hands smoothing out the skirt of her dress. "If I may ask." She added quickly, remembering that perhaps the documents were confidential.

"They are from today's Council Meeting, but I cannot show them to you or tell you what they say." He smiled apologetically to her, and she shook her head in reply, waving a hand at his words.

"Still," She added, her hazel eyes returning to meet his with a pointed look. "Your _father_ was _here._ "

And there it was again, that slightly confused expression that crossed his impenetrable emerald eyes at her words, not seeming to understand what was the problem with that, and it took her another pointed look for him to finally catch up.

"Oh." He finally said, letting out a round of that quiet laughter that would always make butterflies flutter inside her stomach, emerald eyes looking at her curiously.

" _Oh._ " She emphasized, trying to look serious but failing immensely.

"He knows about you." He said as if it was the most casual thing, leaning in a pressing a quick kiss on her right cheek.

"You told him?!" Her eyes widened, blood once again running to her face.

"I did not." He clarified with another round of that quiet laughter, one of his eyebrows rising high on his forehead. "He figured out there was someone, but he does not know it is you."

"Well, _now_ he does!" She exclaimed, not finding any comfort in the amused gleam that invaded his bright emerald eyes.

"Why are you so nervous about that?" He looked at her curiously, his left hand reaching to take hers, fingers intertwining so easily with hers, so gently, still smiling at her expression. "You have nothing to be worried about."

"Because, in case you have failed to notice, he happens to be _the King_." She answered through her teeth, once again grateful that she could not blush, his laughter once again dancing like silver bells on the winter breeze.

"And he also happens to be _my father_." He replied, the wide smile never leaving his face as he spoke, fingers squeezing hers.

"Do not worry, Indi," Her heart swelled at the sound of her shortened name leaving his mouth, her eyes unable to look away from his endless emerald ones. "You will not be sent to the dungeons." He mocked her, her mouth opening in surprise and her hand slapping playfully at his shoulder.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?" He changed the subject, rising up to his feet and offering a hand to her, pulling her up gently.

"No." She shook her head, only now realizing how hungry she was. It was already close to midafternoon, both of them had skipped lunch while he slept and she had not even noticed it.

"Would you join me?" He offered, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering widely again.

"Will the King be there as well?" She asked mockingly, eliciting a round of quiet laughter from him, shaking his head lightly, silvery hair brushing his shoulders.

"No. It will just be me." He clarified, leaving the way outside the freezing terrace and through the Palace's grand corridors. "Do you mind if we stop by my chambers first? I need to drop these off."

He lifted the stack of papers he had been carefully holding on his left hand for her to see, just as they climbed over a grand marble staircase, the light from an interior garden filtering through the narrow colonnade.

"Do I get to see the view from your balcony?" She used her hand to lift the front of her dress and avoid tripping on it up the wide staircase. Ever since he had mentioned that his balcony had a view of the gardens some time ago she had not been able to stop wondering how the endless gardens filled with flowers and ponds would look from high above.

"It is not that fascinating." He mocked her enthusiasm, the end of his lip curving up in a faint smile. They turned right on a long closed corridor, filled with grand doors that she had no idea where they led to. They were starting to cross parts of the Palace that she had not even known existed.

"You think that because you see it every day." She pointed out, following him into yet another corridor that flanked a wide open courtyard.

Her heart skipped a beat as they started up another grand marble staircase, the one that she knew led towards the Royal Quarters, a part of the Palace that was off limits to everyone. She had been there before, perhaps once or twice when she has nothing but an elfling, playing along with Legolas, but she did not remember much. And yet, it felt so different now, as if she was truly headed somewhere she was not supposed to be allowed into had it not been for Arahaelon's presence next to her.

There were guards in nearly every corridor now, and yet not one of them even turned to look in their direction, as if they were not even there, and she was sure that had she been alone she would have been asked a leave these corridors a long time ago. She had even lost track of how many turns they had taken, how many corridors and courtyards and gardens they had crossed. Everything seemed to be larger here, the ceilings were higher, the columns culminating the shapes of twisting branches the tangled in carved stone to compose the illusion of a canopy. Even the doors were taller, the wood perfectly carved in shapes and figures that almost seemed to move.

Finally, they turned right on a long ample corridor lined with five large doors, three on the right and two on the left. And then, Arahaelon stopped, at one of the doors on the right, the first one. His hand gently pushed it open without giving it a second thought, waiting for her to go inside first. The sight that met her eyes was perhaps the largest bedchamber that she had ever seen, the whole set of chambers that her family shared in the Palace could have fit inside and still have room for some more.

She stepped through the small space that served as a sort of antechamber, although there was no door dividing it from the main bedchamber, only furnished by a couple of large chairs and a small round table. And then, she laughed, cursing her luck and at the same time utterly embarrassed at what her eyes were witnessing. Of course. She had already known it, and yet seeing it with her own eyes did not make it any easier. _Of course_ his bedchambers would be the neatest place in the Palace. Valar, and he had seen her own mess of a room overflowing with misplaced books. Here, everything seemed to belong _exactly_ where it was, not a single item looking out of place.

In the center of the room, with the most intricate headboard she could have ever imagined was a bed large enough to fit at least four comfortable sleeping elves, the bed covers of a silken dark blue shade that matched the long swaying curtains over the windows. A couple of bookshelves lined the walls, filled nearly from the floor to higher than she could reach, and she had to stop herself from curiously walking in their direction to inspect each and every single book. Apart from that, there was a large wooden round table to one corner, with four high-backed chairs around it, and a grand fireplace carved in white marble where orange and red flames were already dancing, bringing the room just to the perfect temperature in this freezing winter day.

He walked past her, heading towards a large wooden desk that she had not even noticed to one corner of the room. She followed him slowly, watching him absentmindedly place the documents he had been holding upon its surface. Something else caught her eyes, sitting there on the desk's surface, just above a couple of blank parchments. It was a drawing. Her eyes danced over the collection of expertly traced lines, ranging from thin and barely visible to dark and thick, the shadows and lights placed so perfectly that it even seemed real, not a drawing. She wanted to reach a hand and take, to look at it closer, but she did not move, already feeling his powerful emerald eyes looking at her intently as if trying to figure out what she would do, what she would say. And she somehow knew that touching the drawing would only push him away, would make him tense, some of his barriers return. But still, she could not take her eyes away from it, even though she did not dare touch it.

She had already known he could draw. she had quickly glanced over a couple of them on that book he had dropped some time ago in the gardens, but even then she had not dared to look through the pages of the book. He had not shown it to her, had not offered for her to look. But of course he would not. Just as he would always sit a calculated distance from her at the beginning, how he would not even let her use his given name without tensing some time ago. His drawings were _him_. And she wondered if anyone, even inside his own family had ever been allowed to look through all of them.

"Is that her?" She found herself asking, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. But she could not look away from the perfectly depicted figure of a baby, smiling loudly in the arms of a beautiful lady that she did not need to ask to know it was the Queen. "Your sister?"

Impenetrable emerald eyes met hers for a long moment, so deep, silent, so many thoughts swirling just beneath the surface but where she could never reach them, watching her, as if trying to read her reaction, anticipate her behavior, and for a second she regretted ever asking about the drawing.

"Yes." He finally said, just when she had expected he would not answer, and yet his hand quickly brushed over the desk's surface, placing one of the blank pieces of parchment over the drawing, obstructing it from view. "That was Almarëa…. _Is_ Almarëa, I suppose."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, not wanting to push him away by asking more questions he did not want to answer. Because he would answer her, even if he was not ready to. She turned her face around, eyes landing on the thin glass doors that led towards the balcony.

"May I?" She changed the subject, her feet already making her way towards the ample open balcony that seemed to call to her. He did not answer with words, only motioning with a hand for her to go ahead, that faint smile once again returning to his face, although it did not completely reach his eyes. His sister was still in his thoughts, she did not need to ask to know, and she wished there was something she could do to help, but there was nothing.

The sight that met her eyes truly was fascinating, no matter what he had said. They were so high up in the Palace that she could not even walk all to way to the railing without felling as though she would fall, suddenly glad that her own balcony was not as high up. Stretching out in front of her she could see the entire gardens, one by one, the flowers and leaves all blending out into a sprinkles on a vast canvas, the wild open forest stretching just behind. She could even see her favorite pond, the one with the lilies, the white floating flowers looking only like tiny dots in the distance.

"You lied to me." She chuckled as she heard him approaching from behind her, his tall and elegant silhouette now visible from the corner of her eyes. "You said it would not be fascinating."

"I suppose it _can_ be fascinating." She shrugged, her stomach knotting in nerves and soaring in butterflies as she caught his emerald eyes fixed on her, those deep mysterious eyes that were greener than the forest below. "Why do you not go all the way to the railing?"

"No." She said all too quickly, taking a step backwards almost instinctively. Only thinking about leaning against that thin intertwining railing was already making her head spin, and she could already feel herself falling, falling from so, so, _so_ high up. His musical laughter filled the air, that quiet almost shy sound that she would never tire of hearing.

"You will not fall." He seemed to read her thoughts, offering a hand that she took almost a little begrudgingly, his fingers feeling freezing in the cold afternoon air. But still, when he tried to lead her forward, she did not move, planting both of her feet firmly on the marble floor, eliciting another round of laughter from his part.

"Indilene." He breathed out, his eyes looking at her so deeply that she almost felt as though she would drown in them. His silvery hair danced with a gust of wind, brushing his shoulders and falling into his face, and she realized that it was one of the few times she had seen him without his hair perfectly braided. "You will not fall. Come with me."

He tried to lead her forward again, but her feet did not move, making him laugh lightly once more. And then, an arm slid around her waist, from behind, her heart beating frantically at the feeling of his warm skin, feeling his perfectly sculpted muscles even through the fabric of her dress. He took a measured small step forward, and this time she moved along, her hand flying to grip at his own one across her waist for security. The railing was coming closer and closer, and she was torn between being dizzy with fright and longing to actually see the view at its finest.

Her eyes shut tightly for the last couple of steps, and she was only aware of his gently hands taking hers and placing them over the railing, which she gripped so tightly her knuckles turned white. Another round of chuckles filled the air, echoing just on her right ear, and she had not even realized how close his face was from hers.

"You have to open your eyes to look at the view." He pointed out, the arm around her waist starting to let go but she gripped at it fiercely.

"No, no, no, no. Do not let go of me. I will fall." She said in a rush, and this time both of his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, her back resting on his chest.

"You will not fall." He reassured her again, but nonetheless he did not let go of her. Only then did she dare open her eyes, even though her head spun the second she opened her eyelids.

And yet, _the view_ ….the view was truly better from up close, where there was nothing but the railing and the gardens and forest far far ahead.

"How are you not scared of falling?" She questioned him, her heart skipping a beat as he rested his chin over her right shoulder.

"Because I know I will not fall." He replied with a shrug, his lips placing a gentle quick kiss on her cheek that nearly made her as dizzy as the height. "And neither will you."

"Are you all right now?" He asked her after a few minutes, her knuckles still white but she nodded her head. As long as she did not move from she was, she could manage the height.

Btu she was not ready for his arms letting go of her, starting to protest but not daring to let go of the railing.

"No, no, no, where are you going?" She demanded almost instantly, letting out nervous giggles in the process.

"I am still here." He replied, his voice always so calmed, rounding her in order to be able to look at her face, leaning back against the railing.

And then, he jumped, his hands easily pushing him up to sit on the delicate railing, facing her, and she was sure her heart flipped so dangerously that it almost jumped out of her chest, her eyes going wide.

"Get down from there!" She instructed almost immediately, watching as he only grinned amusedly at her from his place sitting on the railing, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.

"Indi." He said, her attention once again focusing solely on him at the sound of her name in his musical voice. "It is fine."

"You do know, that if you fall, I will be in enormous trouble for being the only one present. They might even believe I pushed you!" She was trying to be serious, but she only managed to make him laugh once more, his forest green eyes feeling like an anchor point to her, merely looking into them making her fear dissipate, her limbs relax.

"That would surely never be forgotten in history. 'The Crown Prince of Mirkwood that fell from his own balcony'." He grinned, making her shake his head at him.

"It does not sound very heroic." She raised an eyebrow at him, narrowing her eyes at his teasing comments, even though she would never tire of seeing him like this, so uncharacteristically relaxed.

"No, it does not." He agreed with her, but he did not jump down from he was sitting precariously on the railing. She had to admit that somehow, seeing him sitting there so casually was starting to ease her fear, somehow making the height feel less threatening, and she wondered if he had chosen to sit there precisely on purpose.

Now that he was sitting there, so close to her, something else caught her eyes. The gentle cold breeze played with his robes, moving the high elegant collar just so for her to see angry pink lines marring his skin, at the base of his neck, and disappearing underneath his formal garments. Nail marks, that was unmistakable, and yet she felt her heart drop painfully inside of her at the sight that he was still oblivious she could see.

"What happened?" She could not stop herself from asking, worry tearing at her insides. For a second, his emerald eyes met hers before quickly understanding what she was talking about, but he made no attempt to once again hide the marks, merely looking at her for a long moment.

"I had a bad night." Was all he offered as an explanation, but she did not need more than that. She could put two and two together. So he had done that to himself. The sole thought of that made her heart sink even lower. It had been his own fingers which had torn through his skin….and for it to get to that point, bad night was an understatement. It was all related: his exhaustion that day, the headache, now the marks on his skin, how he did not want her spirit to touch his today. It was the wound, and she somehow know that he could tell she had picked up on it.

"Does anything ever help?" She found herself asking, her voice barely more than a whisper, not knowing why she was even asking about it. "When it gets bad, does anything help?"

"No." She had somehow expected that answer, but it did not make it easier to hear. And yet she was even surprised that he _did_ answer her.

"Is that why you stopped drawing?" His posture tensed almost imperceptibly at her question, impenetrable emerald eyes gazing at her intently, silent, consuming.

"How do you know I stopped drawing?" He asked in return, his eyes studying her all too carefully, guarded, yet not pushing her away, but careful, careful of anything he said, or did.

"There is nothing on your desk that indicated you have been drawing anytime recently." She answered truthfully, her eyes never once leaving his, open and unguarded where his were cautious and unreadable. "You look at them, in your sketchbooks, but you never carry a quill, or charcoal, or graphite with you, which makes me assume that you are only looking at them, not drawing."

"You are very observant." He said, neither his eyes nor perfectly serene face letting anything through.

"Says _you_." She pointed out, relieved when for a split second a faint smile crossed his face before disappearing once more. If there was anyone in the realm who really was observant, it was him.

"There are many reasons why I stopped drawing." He started, his voice lower than usual. Hi forest green eyes drifted away from her, to gaze at nothing in particular out in the distance, and she took a step closer to him, still holding tight to the railing. He always did that, unnoticed to nearly every elf in the Palace who did not wish to see, he always looked away when what he was saying was not easy for him. "I guess that was one of them."

"Will you ever draw again?" She asked, his eyes only then returning to look at him again for a long second before answering.

"Perhaps." Was his only answer, but she did not push for more.

She opened her mouth but was interrupted by a sudden knock on the tall wooden door. Arahaelon jumped down from the railing in a move so fluid she barely even saw it, offering her a hand before leading her back inside the safety of the warm bedchambers.

"Enter" He called out with such ease that she was suddenly reminded that he must be used to being the one in charge. A tall dark haired guard stepped through the door, stopping only a couple of steps inside the room and not daring to venture any further in, as if there was an invisible line he was forbidden to cross.

"My Lord." The guard started with a respectful bow before continuing. "His Majesty requests your presence in his study immediately. He asks that you dress formally, my Lord."

"Thank you, I will be there shortly." Arahaelon replied almost instantly, suddenly standing sot all and regal that she almost felt plain, the guard merely nodding his head before disappearing from the room, closing the door behind him.

"There goes my free day." The Crown Prince muttered with an amused smile as he suddenly moved across the room, discarding his wrinkled outer robes over the back of a chair and putting on a clean set of royal blue ones that perfectly matched his formal undertunic and leggings.

She followed him with her eyes, entertained watching him move towards a long dresser with at least ten drawers. His slender fingers almost absentmindedly opened a large flat beautifully carved wooden box sitting upon its surface, retrieving an exquisite silver circlet from its blue interior velvet. He placed it on his head with the same with which one places an insignificant hair pin, or tie, as it was something he did almost every day. But she guessed it was. And then, he was walking in her direction, opening the large ornate door for her to walk through it first and into the long open corridor.

"I will walk you down to the terraces." He spoke gently as they made their way from the labyrinthine wide hallways of the Royal Quarters, offering her an apologetic smile, and she was glad he would walk with her because she was sure she would not be able to find her way back on her own.

"Very well. But you still owe me the lunch you offered." Was all she said, listening once again to his quiet silver like chuckles as they echoed on the tall slender columns….

Here is chapter 11! Sorry for the long wait hehe, I actually had half of the chapter written and then last minute decided that I did not like it so I changed nearly half of it. I hope you enjoy reading it or that it can at least brings smile to your face!

Thank you again immensely to all who reviewed the last chapter, really every single one of your words means the world to me: Amsim, Saum the Smol Teddy, Mystifying Roses, artvandelay5001, and helenaxo!

Love,

Elena


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